Triple Threat
by Kohaku Minamoto
Summary: "What if I didn't have to choose? What if...I could have both?" AU crack pairing, Chase/Playable Character/Gill.
1. Prologue

**Triple Threat  
****Prologue**

Things were getting out of hand, I knew. It was time we settled this.

My hands twisted nervously in the skirt of my dress. Even in the cool air of the restaurant, my underarms were beginning to sweat – the way they always did whenever I was anxious – and my bare legs were sticking uncomfortably to my seat. I shifted, then glanced towards the door when I heard the bell above it tinkle a soft welcome.

Two forms appeared in the doorway, cast into shadow by the sun behind them. At a distance, it was impossible to make out the new arrivals' features, but I knew who they were anyway. My stomach clenched, especially when they moved into restaurant's soft ambient light and I caught sight of their expressions: irritated, aggressive, competitive.

This was not going to be an easy task.

They spotted me at the same time and headed for my table. I'm not sure if they realized it, but they moved in sync, their strides perfectly matched in length and speed. They reached me at exactly the same moment, but take the seats that had been prepared for them, choosing instead to glare at each other. You could practically _hear_ the sparks crackling as their heated gazes met.

"Sit down," I said hurriedly, flapping my hands at them. One last challenging stare, a simultaneous huff, and they pulled out their chairs and sat down. Then their gazes were directed towards me, and I had to fight the sudden urge to shrink back and look as small as possible. I'd specifically chosen this table – a round one, with three chairs placed at regular intervals – so that we would all appear to be on equal footing, but it appeared that emulating King Arthur and his knights was not going too well for me.

For starters, I was going to need a bigger sword.

I forced myself to straighten my spine and sat up as tall as I could. Of course, when you're five-feet three-inches like I am, "as tall as you can" is not very tall at all. But, as Selena likes to say, it's not about how much you've got; it's how you use it. I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin, meeting their gazes as steadily as I could.

"Alright," the young man on my left said huffily. "Tell us why you called both of us here at the same time."

"I wanted to talk. About our…situation."

I was starting to lose my resolve a little; from the looks of things, neither of them really wanted to talk about anything, least of all _that_ sensitive issue. The young man on my right rolled his eyes.

"I doubt that the _three_ of us talking is going to resolve anything."

"Yeah," the other agreed hotly. "We've talked and talked, and so far, we've gotten nowhere. Right now, it all comes down to you. _You're_ the one that needs to choose."

I bit my lower lip, hard. "I do?"

"Yes," the one on the right affirmed. His tone was cool, but I could feel the barely repressed tension raging just under the surface.

"But I _can't_," I groaned, dropping my face into my hands. "Look, it's really not fair of you guys to make me do this. Can't you see that I like you both equally?"

"Well," the one on the left said, with an air of finality, "if you can't choose – "

"There's no use in us being here," the other finished. They both stood, preparing to leave.

I panicked. This was not going quite the way I'd planned. "Wait!" I cried, flailing my arms out at both of them. Somehow – and I have no idea how – I managed to grab one of each of their hands in mine, stopping them from leaving. Both of them halted, and we stayed frozen in that position for a moment. I could feel both their heartbeats pulsing against my skin, oddly synced, until everything just seemed like one rhythmic throb of tension around me. I gulped.

"I-I might have a solution," I croaked out, then cleared my throat. "Will you guys listen to it, at least?"

They glanced at each other at the same moment, then back at me. "…Fine," they said at the same time, then glared at each other afterwards.

"Um. Okay." I took a deep breath – and the entire speech I'd had planned out flew straight out of my mind. "What if," I blurted out, "I didn't have to choose?"

Two pairs of eyebrows lifted. They didn't need to speak for me to understand their incredulity. Before they could open their mouths, though, I went on.

"What if…" I paused briefly, then said the rest in one quick rush of breath, "I could have both?"

* * *

_A/N: FIRST OF ALL. This is not really meant to be taken super seriously…it's a crack!fic, obviously, with an equally cracky pairing. Mostly I just wanted to write a story involving my two favorite characters, because I discovered how much I liked writing interactions between Gill and Chase in _Damn Everything But the Circus_. The girl is the playable character, but her name has been changed for some variety. Also, this is a bit AU-ish._

_If this kind of thing makes you uncomfortable, click the back button right now! Don't come complaining to me saying it's sick. I'm more focused on the emotional aspect of this whole thing rather than the logistics and the possible immorality of it all. I'm going to Hell anyway – why not have fun along the way?_

_This is the prologue (and sort of a teaser), so of course it's short. The rest of the chapters will definitely be longer, and will set up the scenario better. The other chapters will probably be in third person too, just to make things clearer...or more complicated...hehe._

_Um…I dunno if this subject matter should be rated higher, but let me know if you think so.  
_

_Review, review, review, and see you soon for the next chapter!_


	2. Scars Are Souvenirs You Never Lose

**Triple Threat  
****1. Scars Are Souvenirs You Never Lose**

_A memory._

At first Mrs. Swanson just thought he was shy, like many of the other new kindergartners. She knew that a lot of the children were scared of the new lady – though Mrs. Swanson was small and soft-looking and not at all threatening – and the new environment, so she took care to get down to eye level, smile, and ask each little boy and girl his or her name. Some answered readily, having rehearsed this routine with their parents beforehand. Some were shy and only whispered, and the name had to be repeated several times – Mrs. Swanson was patient, though, and gentle, so no child went away unacknowledged.

When the child was more reticent than normal, the parent usually answered for him or her. That was something Mrs. Swanson had noticed about the parents in the area: they took their role in their children's lives very seriously. Every new student was accompanied by at least one parent – some (the children with no siblings, Mrs. Swanson privately thought) were accompanied by two. They towered over their tiny progeny, holding a small hand and giving encouraging little nudges when the child hesitated in answering the nice lady's questions.

Only one child came alone. Mrs. Swanson almost missed him, actually – he was standing outside the door, a little apart from the chattering throng of new students. It was only after the last little girl said goodbye to her father and filed inside to take her seat that Mrs. Swanson got up to close the door and saw him.

"Well, hello there," she greeted the boy, smiling pleasantly. "Are you in this class?"

The light filtering through the leaves of the big oak tree cast dappled shadows on his small frame as he nodded hesitantly. Mrs. Swanson beckoned him encouragingly. "Come inside, then," she said. "All the other students have already arrived."

The boy moved forward slowly, and when he was within reach, Mrs. Swanson gently laid a hand on his shoulder. He flinched a little, and she was a bit concerned at this, but she chalked the reaction up to simple nerves and got down on one knee to look the child in the eye. "Now, what's your name?"

He didn't answer, didn't even murmur or cough or whisper or giggle; he just stared solemnly at her. He was a rather pretty child, she thought, with soft strawberry-blond hair that was more strawberry than blond, and enormous eyes in a rare shade of violet. She wondered, absently, what his parents looked like – and then, where they were.

He still didn't speak. Mrs. Swanson gave him an encouraging look. "Come on, now," she coaxed sweetly. "How are you going to make friends if you won't tell anyone your name?"

There was no change in the pale, pointed little face. The exchange went on for nearly two full minutes, with Mrs. Swanson trying every trick in the book to try and get the child to talk. Finally, she sighed and reached for the class roster she'd been checking everyone off on as they walked in. She scanned down the list…and found the only name that did not have a neat little check mark written next to it.

"Chase?" she said tentatively, and caught the spark of recognition in the child's eyes. "Oh, good. Now, I'll let it go for today, but remember that you need to learn to talk to the other children, okay? Go inside and make some new friends!"

She thought that the child would probably perk up once he was around his peers.

He didn't.

At recess, Mrs. Swanson watched her new class run out to play. The little girls had already begun to form the kindergarten version of cliques – they sat in small clumps and picked flowers. The boys swung from the play structure and made new friends by yelling raucously to each other in high-pitched young voices. Mrs. Swanson smiled.

The smile faded, however, when she caught sight of the small figure sitting underneath the oak tree. Chase wasn't doing anything at all – he was just sitting there, hands neatly folded in his lap as he stared at nothing. In a developing child, such things were worrisome. Mrs. Swanson pursed her lips in concern and made a mental note to speak to the parents if this did not improve by the end of the week.

On Friday afternoon, Mrs. Swanson opened the school directory and scanned down the rows of names to "Moretti, Chase." There were no parents' names listed next to the entry, only a single phone number. She picked up the phone and dialed.

The person on the other line picked up on the third ring. "Hello?" barked a male voice.

"Hi, this is Barbara Swanson, from Harmonica Elementary School," Mrs. Swanson said in her best professional voice. "I'm calling about one of my new kindergarten students, Chase Moretti. Are you his father?"

"No," the male voice replied, hard as ever. "My name is Tom Markus. I'm head of the Castanet Orphanage."

Mrs. Swanson blinked, a bit put off her stride. The local orphanage? It was true that since the institution didn't provide schooling to its charges, it usually sent them to the local elementary schools – but the orphans typically went to Garmon Elementary, because it was far closer than any of the other schools. "If I might ask," she said politely, "what is Chase doing here? Shouldn't he be at Garmon Elementary?"

"Yes," Markus said curtly. "But Chase only just arrived a month ago, and Garmon's incoming kindergarten class was full by then. Harmonica was the only one that had any space left."

"Ah, I see." She was already beginning to worry. Harmonica was nearly all the way across town from the orphanage, and she'd never seen anyone coming to pick up Chase after school. She really hoped that he wasn't trying to catch public transportation – or, possibly worse, _walking_ that entire way back…

"Mrs. Swanson?" Markus's sharp voice cut through her thoughts. "What was it you were calling about? Chase isn't causing trouble, is he?"

"Oh, no, no," Mrs. Swanson said in a rush. "Quite the opposite. Chase is the most quiet out of all of my students – actually, he's…_too_ quiet. Does he ever, um…speak?"

The answer was discouraging. "No. When he first got here, we couldn't even get a name out of him. The social worker who brought him says that he hasn't spoken since his parents were killed."

Mrs. Swanson gasped, shocked. "Killed?"

"They were involved in a car accident about a month and a half ago. You might have heard about it – took out quite a chunk of Main Street."

Mrs. Swanson had read about the incident in the local newspaper, but she hadn't delved too deep into the article – she was so empathetic that hearing about such misfortunes would make her unbearably sad. Indeed, her eyes were already beginning to tear a little bit; the shops on Main Street had been under repairs for almost a full month after the accident, and she couldn't imagine how Chase would have felt, seeing that reminder of his parents' demise every time he passed the construction sites.

Markus was speaking again. "If there's a way to get him to talk, we haven't found it," he informed her. "We even had a psychiatrist come in, to check if he might have had some developmental issues and was…you know, retarded." Mrs. Swanson winced reflexively at this word – as a rule, educators typically didn't use "retarded" to describe any student, no matter what their mental status was. "But she said he was fine. She gave him some visual tests and he scored very high, but he didn't make a sound throughout the entire thing. She told us that he was probably suffering some kind of trauma, and that it would be difficult to rehabilitate him if we couldn't get him to respond. Then she said we should try to surround him with a warm, loving environment and possibly the problem would resolve itself eventually." Markus snorted; through the phone, the sound was like a gunshot. "A warm, loving environment? I have over 200 kids here – we had to take over Flower Bud's children ever since their orphanage got shut down. I don't have the time or the resources to focus on just one child's problems."

"What about adoption?" Mrs. Swanson asked. "Wouldn't that help Chase's problems?"

Markus laughed – he actually laughed, short harsh sounds that sounded almost mirthless. "Do you really think," he said, "that anyone in their right mind would pick a kid _that_ damaged to raise?"

* * *

On Tuesday, she handed each student a large sheet of white paper as they came in the door. "Now what I want you to do today," she told them once they'd taken their seats, "is draw on that sheet of paper your biggest dream."

The children looked up at her with bright, attentive eyes. "It can be anything you want," she continued, walking between the tables and making sure to meet gazes with every child. "Even if you think it's impossible, even if you think it's a little crazy. Go ahead! I put boxes of crayons at every table. There's enough for everyone."

There was a flurry of motion as the children all raced to grab their favorite colors from the boxes. Some began drawing right away, while others sat and pursed their small mouths, staring in adorable seriousness at the blank paper. Mrs. Swanson sat in her desk and watched them all.

She did this exercise at the beginning of every school year, for several reasons. First and foremost, it was to teach the children the importance of pursuing one's dreams. She wished to instill a sense of hopeful idealism before all their innocence was crushed by the cruel realities of the world. In addition, she liked to be able to see the personalities of the students. The ones who drew without hesitation were focused and knew exactly what they wanted – rare in children, but they would probably grow up to be the assertive leaders the world needed – while those who paused and thought had likely never considered such things.

No matter though, she thought. They had years to figure that out, at least. But perhaps she could plant a seed of a thought inside their minds now, when they were still young and receptive to new ideas.

She got up to walk among the desks, glancing down at each drawing. Most children had drawn the typical childish sketches of what they wanted to be when they grew up – a cowboy, a spaceman, a doctor. One child wanted to be a lawyer, if the business suit, briefcase, and solemn expression of his crayon counterpart were anything to go by. Mrs. Swanson complimented each child's artwork, occasionally pausing to ask questions.

"Can you tell me about your picture, Beth?" she asked one little girl.

Beth smiled. "It's a family!"

"That's lovely," Mrs. Swanson praised her. Beth fairly glowed, and even went on to elaborate.

"This is the daddy," she informed the teacher, pointing to a stick figure with an indeterminate black blob of what might have been hair, "this is me – I'm the mommy," indicating the smiling brown-haired drawing beside it, "and this is our son." The baby was disproportionately larger than his parents, with a big grin on his round face. The three stood in front of a crude drawing of a house with a red roof and rectangular windows.

Mrs. Swanson smiled, then turned to the boy beside her. "Chase, can you show me your drawing?"

The boy, who had been drawing steadily with his brow furrowed in concentration, looked up at her with round violet eyes. Silently, he pushed the piece of paper at her, and Mrs. Swanson took it.

Oddly enough, Chase and Beth had drawn almost the same thing – a family, with father, mother, and child. The difference between the two, though, was that while Beth had drawn herself as one of the parents, Chase had drawn himself as the child. That much was clear – the father had dark brown hair, while the mother had vivid red hair. The child had orange spikes sticking straight up from his head – Chase's approximation of his own unruly strawberry-blond hair – and a perfectly curved smile. He stood between his stick figure parents, holding their roughly drawn hands, and a small brown house stood in the background.

Mrs. Swanson glanced up from the drawing to meet Chase's eyes. The expression in them was heartbreaking – the loss, the sorrow that no child should ever have to feel. Had the other students not been there, she would have knelt down and taken him into her arms. As it was, she felt her eyes sting a little with the threat of tears.

She handed the drawing back to Chase. "It's wonderful," she whispered, and touched his shoulder gently. The boy looked away, down at the picture. He placed a hand on the edge of the paper, and then, hesitantly, traced the curve of the orange-haired child's smile with a small finger.

* * *

Chase usually sat alone, at lunch and at recess. Mrs. Swanson had found out by now that he walked home by himself after school – she'd tried to find some way to arrange some kind of transportation for him, but it was nearly impossible. Markus could not spare any of his already overworked staff to pick the child up, and Mrs. Swanson herself did not even own a car. She could only watch helplessly as Chase shouldered his backpack and set off down the street, looking down at the ground.

After two weeks of school, though, something happened.

She almost didn't believe it at first, when she saw it. Chase was sitting under the shade of the big oak tree as usual with his lunch in his hands – she knew he packed it himself, because the sandwiches were sloppily cut (she cringed at the thought of a child so young being that close to knives) and the napkins crammed into the worn-out paper bag. But today, there was someone sitting next to him.

Elizabeth Angela O'Keefe – or Beth, as she was simply known – the girl who had drawn the picture that was so similar to Chase's. She was one of those rare children who possessed a kind of universal charm usually present only in international diplomats. A "people person" was the common phrase – Mrs. Swanson had seen her make friends with nearly everyone she met. She had little doubt that in high school, Beth could easily become the Public Relations officer on Student Council (she also wondered whether she might see Beth on the news one day, cheerfully ending conflicts between two warring countries).

They made a bit of an odd pair, the silent loner and the social butterfly. Even the other children – who should have been too young to put labels on everyone else – gave them curious looks. Beth's friends occasionally came over to ask her whether she would like to come eat lunch with them.

Beth just shook her head, smiled, and said something that must have satisfied the girls, for they walked away with mollified – if slightly bemused – looks on their faces. And Beth went back to sitting in silence next to Chase, eating half of her own – neatly cut – sandwich. Mrs. Swanson leaned against the window, slightly confused.

She saw Beth finish her sandwich, brush off her hands, and dig in her lunch box for something. There was a small "aha!" moment when she found it, and she drew it out, cupping the thing gently in her small hand. Mrs. Swanson craned her neck to see what it was.

An orange.

She began peeling it, pulling the skin away in small sections and laying them on a napkin in her lap. Mrs. Swanson watched her, bemused. It was only then that she realized someone else was watching Beth too.

Chase had put down his sandwich (which he'd only been halfheartedly nibbling at) to watch her peel the orange. There was not much expression on his face – there never really was – but even from this distance Mrs. Swanson could see the envy in his eyes as he watched Beth pull the last bit of skin off the orange. Mrs. Swanson sighed. Again, she supposed, there was the reminder that Chase was not nearly as privileged as the other children at this school.

Then, something extraordinary. Without being asked to, Beth took the whole peeled orange and offered it to Chase. He looked at her, startled. She smiled, and must have said something reassuring, because he took it hesitantly. He held it for a moment, staring at it almost as if he didn't know what it was. Then, tentatively, he pulled the orange apart into two halves and handed one half to Beth. She accepted it gracefully, smiling – and for the first time since he'd arrived at Harmonica Elementary, Chase Moretti smiled back.

* * *

_A/N: And…CUT. That's a wrap on the cheesy childhood story._

_Of course, this isn't much of a chapter…YEAH, you all say, WHERE'S THE HOT SMEXY THREESOME ROMANCE? Well…I'm horrible at just getting to the action. I like to DEVELOP. To CHARACTERIZE. To put together a PLOT. Yeah. Lots of capital letters there, sorry…but you know, these things don't just kind of happen. Everyone needs to be linked. There are reasons for everything. So some of these chapters will be little memory chapters like this – involving various combinations of characters. I'm sure it'll be FUN (maybe)._

_And yes, Angela is Beth. I just needed a different name (one of my friends' names is Angela, and I just feel weird using it), but I did kinda link it via middle name. Yeah. This chapter is more an introduction of Chase than anything, with a small bit of the start of a friendship between him and Beth. Hopefully you caught all the small allusions to the game inside there. :D_

_And sorry for the slow update – but I have a valid reason! I just officially graduated two days ago, so I've been busy with all the preparations and then the parties. Ah, craziness. But I am FREE from the pressures of high school. And soon, off to the pressures of college. Oh, no…_

_A bajillion thanks to _**Moffy, Winter Oak, AirliaLOCKHEART, and thy pantaloons**_ for reviewing and assuring me that people DO want to see this craziness happen._

_Chapter title is a line from the song "Name" by Goo Goo Dolls._

_Oh, and I forgot the disclaimer: DON'T OWN ANYTHING. There, all done. Totally let that formality slip my mind, sorry._


	3. We Should Get Jerseys

**Triple Threat  
****2. We Should Get Jerseys, 'Cause We Make a Good Team**

_Click_.

"Hello, you've reached Café Ocarina. This is Chase, how may I help you?"

"Nice to know you're that much more polite on the phone than you are in person."

A sigh. "Beth, why are you calling this number?"

"Because you don't have a cell phone. So, what's for lunch today?"

"I'm feeding you _again_?"

"Think of it as an exchange – you give me food, and I give you the pleasure of my company for about…oh, forty minutes, if my watch is correct."

"Only forty minutes? Your pimp doesn't have you charge by the hour?"

"Haha, Chase. Very funny. Actually, I've got a Student Council meeting in about an hour, and I need twenty minutes to get over to the school to meet."

"School on a weekend. Sounds fun."

"I know. Want to tag along?"

"Do the other Student Council members charge for spending time in their company too?"

"_Chase_ – "

"Actually, that's a stupid question – they probably would, just to get funding for the school. Although really, _they'd_ have to pay _me_ to spend time with some of those posers."

"Chase, some of those 'posers' are my friends."

"Not sure what that says about your taste in friends…"

"Don't be mean. Okay, I'm heading out now. See you in five minutes?"

"Is this deducted from the forty minutes you owe me?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"I'm not getting my money's worth?"

"Your _food's_ worth, dear. And yes, you are. I'll see you in a bit."

"See you."

_Click_.

* * *

Maya Nichols, the daughter of the owners of Café Ocarina, greeted Beth as she came in the door. "Hey!" she called, pausing in her mopping to wave enthusiastically at the other girl. Beth waved back, smiling.

"Hi, Maya. What's with the mop?"

The blonde pouted, looking resentfully at the bucket at her feet. "I burned another customer's soup yesterday, so Grandma put me on cleaning duty for the rest of the week."

Beth stifled a smile. "Oh, no!"

"Yeah, I know! I mean…" Maya leaned in close, her voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "How am I ever going to get _you-know-who_ to notice me if I'm never in the kitchen?"

"You-know-who," of course, was none other than Maya's co-worker, Chase Moretti. Maya had been crushing pretty hard on the older boy ever since he'd started working at Café Ocarina. Beth honestly couldn't imagine why – Chase, whose already meager people skills did not extend into the kitchen, was often absolutely cruel in his evaluation's of Maya's cooking. Granted, the girl _was_ pretty bad (Beth once made the mistake of trying her chocolate pudding and almost had to be hospitalized afterwards), but that certainly didn't give Chase license to be _mean_. Beth couldn't count the number of times she'd had to comfort a sobbing Maya after Chase had rejected her hard work once again.

"Well, I'm sure you'll win him over soon," Beth reassured the younger girl. Maya frowned.

"But Beth, I don't have much time left!"

Beth giggled. "Maya, you have almost two years left."

"A year and a half," Maya corrected her. "Then both of you go off to college, and where will I be? Stuck on cleaning duty again." She punctuated this last statement by slapping the mop noisily against the floor. A few of the café's customers turned around to look curiously at her. Maya ignored them all. "Help me out here, Beth. Can you at least put in a good word with him for me or something?"

"I'll put in _two_ good words," the girl said, smiling. Maya grinned back.

"Thanks, Beth. Now…back to mopping." She sighed and dunked the mop back into the bucket. Beth waved and continued on towards the counter, where a familiar strawberry-blond head was bent over the cash register.

"Hey, Moretti. What's up?"

"Well, the cash register's jammed again, I have no idea how to fix it, and we've been short-staffed ever since Kathy quit to focus on college apps, so I'm stuck working the kitchen _and_ the register."

Beth winced. "Sorry to hear that. Bad day?"

"Yeah, pretty much." He looked up at her then, and a small smile curved his lips. "But it's starting to look up a little."

Beth smiled back. On those rare occasions when Chase dropped the sarcasm and actually said what he meant, Beth knew better than to spoil the moment by teasing him about it. "So, what have you got for me today?" she asked.

"There's a menu right in front of you…"

"I know, but I want to know what _you _recommend."

Chase rolled his eyes. "No matter what I suggest, you'll probably end up choosing a sandwich."

"True…I lead a busy life, you know. No time to sit down and eat a fancy meal."

"I thought you had forty minutes."

"Thirty-five. But I guess I can be late."

"To the all-important Student Council meetings?" Chase feigned horror at this statement. "Don't they whip officers for transgressions like that? Ten lashes for every minute of tardiness?"

Beth giggled. "This is high school, Chase, not a plantation in seventeenth century America."

"It's more like Nazi Germany, actually." Chase struck an ironic pose, standing ramrod straight with his arm stuck out in salute. "Heil Führer Hamilton!"

Beth smacked at the outstretched hand. "Don't say that," she scolded him, all the while trying to fight the smile threatening to steal over her face. "Superintendent Hamilton is a nice guy."

"I was referring to the younger. You know, our beloved student body president."

"Gill?"

"Ooh, so you and the Führer are on a first name basis?"

"Don't be mean, Chase. Gill's nice once you get to know him."

Chase squinted at her. "'Get to know him?' Looking to become Mrs. Führer Hamilton now, are we?"

Beth covered her mouth with one hand to stifle her laughter. "Hush," she said, between giggles. "Could you just get me a sandwich, please?"

"I knew it." Chase saw her reaching for her wallet and held out a hand to stop her. "Ah, no. You don't pay."

"But I feel bad," Beth said, frowning. Chase rolled his eyes.

"It's just a sandwich. And you're giving me thirty-five minutes of your time in exchange, aren't you?"

"Forty, remember? I'm going to be late."

"Awww, you're willing to endure fifty lashes from the Führer for _me_? I'm so touched."

Beth rolled her eyes. "Doesn't this come out of your salary?"

"It's less than five dollars. I'm not so broke that I can't manage that."

"Well…" Beth pulled out four dollars – the price of a sandwich – and dropped it in the tip jar. Chase raised his eyebrows at her.

"Cheater."

She gave him her most winning smile. "What are you talking about? I'm just paying you for great service and company."

"Oh, so now you're saying I'm a cheap whore? Thanks a lot, Beth. I really appreciate it."

She reached out and gently pinched his cheek. "Be quiet and make me a sandwich, woman," she said jokingly, then went off to find a table.

* * *

Business was slow at two-thirty in the afternoon, so Chase stepped out from around the counter to join Beth at her table when the sandwich was ready. "Here you go, Mrs. Führer," he deadpanned, putting the plate down in front of her and taking a seat. Beth rolled her eyes and put her cell phone back into her pocket.

"Still on about that?" she asked rhetorically, pulling the plate towards her. Chase grinned sarcastically at her, leaning back in his seat.

"So what's so important about this Student Council meeting that it couldn't wait until Monday?"

"Prom," Beth groaned. She took a bite out of the sandwich. "We're supposed to decide on a theme and pick this year's committee."

"Are you going to be on it?"

"Back by popular demand," she said sardonically. "As usual, the only underclassman on the entire committee, and therefore the one who gets all the work and none of the glory." She sighed, running a hand through her long brown hair. "I guess I _should_ be proud. I mean, how many juniors get to be on a senior prom committee?"

"How many juniors have your people skills?" Chase shot back. "They'd be lost without you there to coordinate the venue and decorations and catering – "

"Oh, that reminds me," Beth interrupted. She sat up from her formerly dejected slouch and smiled at Chase. He peered suspiciously at her.

"No."

The smile disappeared. "I haven't said anything yet!"

"You didn't need to. You were going to ask me if Café Ocarina would cater at prom, weren't you?"

"I was actually going to ask you to ask Yolanda, but – "

Chase groaned. "And of course, she'll say yes. One, because she loves you, and two, because 'prom is good for business and public relations!'" He said the last part in a high-pitched voice that Beth assumed was supposed to be an imitation of Yolanda's own strident tones.

"Please, Chase?" she pleaded. "I wouldn't bother you guys normally, but last year the hotel we had prom at did complimentary catering, and then like five people got food poisoning from the steak. We're changing the venue, but they don't cater – and frankly, I wouldn't trust them even if they did. Can you just put in a word with Yolanda?"

"No."

"I bet you'd get a huge bonus if you worked prom that night…"

"And risk having all of our classmates see me there? No thanks."

"Okay. Do it for _me_?" She emphasized this statement with big, shining eyes and a little pout. Chase groaned.

"Don't give me the puppy eyes, Beth. That's low."

"But _Chase_," she said, putting a small pathetic whine into her voice, "if you don't, the Führer will beat me!"

Chase frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, he won't _really_, but I _did_ kind of tell him that I could get you guys to cater, so – "

"Wow. Way to make promises you can't keep."

"You know that if you say no, I'll just go to Yolanda myself, right?"

"So?"

"_So_, if I do, then you might not get that bonus for facilitating the deal in the first place."

Chase scowled at her, but the lure of money eventually won over. "…Fine. I'll talk to her if she comes in later."

"Thank you! I'd hug you, but then I might knock the table over."

"Yeah…don't. Otherwise Maya will have to clean it up."

"Oh, yeah. Speaking of which." Beth leaned forward so that no one around them could hear her next words. "Could you give her a chance, please?"

Chase leaned back to get away from her. "What do you mean?"

"Could you be just a _little_ nicer to her? You make her cry all the time…"

"Her cooking is _terrible_, Beth! What am I supposed to say about it?"

"Well, comparing it to pig feces isn't exactly going to help! There's such a thing as constructive criticism!"

"I think my criticism is constructive…"

Beth groaned. "Maybe to you, but in case you haven't noticed, Maya's pretty sensitive. And she lik – _looks_ up to you a lot. You know that. Every time you insult her, you kill her self-esteem for a week. She's just a freshman – give her a break."

"I'm her co-worker, not her babysitter. I don't have to be nice to her."

"You don't _have_ to be nice to anybody, but it makes the world a little brighter every time you are," Beth said cheesily. "Also, it makes my life easier when Maya doesn't come crying to me after you were mean to her again."

"But her cooking – "

"Forget the cooking. She's a nice, friendly person! Not everyone can be as talented as you are, anyway."

"Aw, you think I'm talented? I'm flattered."

Beth sighed. "Don't get that swelled head stuck in the doorway when you leave, okay?"

"I'll try my best."

Beth glanced at her watch. "I should get going now," she sighed. "Remember what I said about Maya, okay?"

"Okay…"

"And talk to Yolanda for me about the catering."

"_Okay_." Chase rolled his eyes and stood up with her. "Now get out of here."

She grinned, then bounded forward to throw her arms around him in an exuberant hug.

"Oof."

"Thanks for lunch," she said. "I'll see you at school, okay?"

"Yes, okay. Now get _off_."

She released him and waved. "Off to meet the Führer," she singsonged, and practically skipped her way out the door. Chase rolled his eyes at her antics…but there was a smile on his face as he picked up her empty plate and went back to wrestle with the uncooperative cash register.

* * *

_A/N: I was going to include the Student Council meeting in this one, but I figured I'd keep you guys in suspense for a little while longer. :P No, actually I'm still trying to figure out how to write Gill in this one. Strange, it was so much easier in _Damn Everything But the Circus_, which I still have to update…cripes. The curse of having so many incomplete fics…_

_The interactions between Chase and Beth were surprisingly easy to write. I wasn't originally planning on them being such good friends, but it ended up making way more sense – Chase is such a sarcastic little bastard sometimes anyway, so he needs someone who will love him in spite of everything._

_And no, I don't hate Maya. I typically try not to despise fictional characters unless there really IS something wrong with their personality…like Bella from _Twilight_, or Terri from _Glee_…grr those two piss me off…_

_This fic has a faster review rate than _Damn Everything But the Circus_! You guys are such sickos, geez. :P Just kidding. I love you all, especially the reviewers. So thank you to _**EvilGiggles13** _for a new review, and a special shout out to _**Winter Oak**_ for being a continuous reviewer, on both of my Harvest Moon fics. I love knowing that people are sticking with this fic, even if I update kind of slowly (though I expect my update rate might speed up over the summer)._

_Title is from "Must Have Done Something Right" by Relient K. Pretty much fits Chase's relationship with Beth. :)_

_Review, and stay tuned for next chapter: when Gill FINALLY makes some sort of appearance._


	4. Heaven Help the Ones Who Know

**Triple Threat  
****3. Heaven Help the Ones Who Know What Makes the World Go Slow**

Castanet High School's Student Council had a one-to-four male-to-female ratio…with a five-member count. Were this in any other setting, happening to any other teenage boy, this would have been considered _heaven_. As it was, even at Castanet, Gill sometimes saw members of the Student Government class giving him envious looks as they walked out the door to lunch, leaving him alone with the other four (female) members of Student Council.

Gill often thought their envy was misplaced. There was, after all, a _very_ significant difference between working with four beautiful, ditzy, cooperative girls and working with four independent, extremely intelligent – and yes, quite good-looking – girls. Namely this: put four ditzes in a room together and they'd probably be best friends by the end of the meeting. But put four opinionated intellectuals in the room…and you had a recipe for instant headache on the part of the sole male.

Particularly around prom planning season. This was Gill's first year as student body president, but last year's president had warned him that when prom planning came around, he was to start taking sick days every time there was to be a meeting.

"But what if I'm not sick?" Gill, only a sophomore at the time, had questioned. The older boy had rolled his eyes.

"Trust me, even if you're not sick, _you'll want to be sick_."

Now, Gill understood. But since it wasn't within his nature – or indeed his work ethic – to skip out on meetings when there was no valid reason to, he'd started coming armed with a bottle of aspirin. Call it a precaution. It wasn't like he used the drugs…much.

So today's schedule: discuss the school's last pep rally, plan fundraising for prom, and pick this year's prom committee. Gill made sure that the aspirin was readily available inside his bag.

"So, I think it's safe to say that the winter pep rally was a success," Luna Hubbard, sophomore and reigning student body vice president, announced. There was a murmur of agreement all around the table.

"I-I got a few complaints, though…" Secretary Candace Hubbard shuffled her notes a little, not making eye contact with anyone else. "Some of the parents…complained that the dance team's routine was too…suggestive."

Luna rolled her eyes. "Again? Someone has to have a talk with the dance team captain."

Silence all around the table. Luna frowned. "Well, _I'm_ not doing it."

"Good thing." The reply came from Kathy MacDonald, their treasurer and future student at Brown University. She grinned a little at Luna, leaning back in her chair. "We all know that you two hate each other."

"Puh-lease. I do not hate her. Just her sense of fashion – or lack thereof."

Kathy sighed. "Where's Beth, anyway? Talking to the public is her job – "

_Bang_. On cue, the door slammed open, and a harried brunette swept into the room. "Hi, guys," she said in a rush, "sorry I'm late. What's up?"

"We were just talking about the pep rally," Luna filled her in as Beth dropped into her seat beside Candace, who offered her a small smile in greeting. "A couple of parents complained about the dance team's suggestive dancing, and now we need someone to talk to the team captain."

"Let me guess – you want me to do it." A collective nod; Beth considered for a moment, then shrugged. "Okay, sure."

Kathy had the decency to look a little embarrassed. "Sorry, Beth. It's just that I never see Selena these days, and she and Luna would probably end up getting into a big shouting match over it – "

"Hey, we would not," Luna protested. Kathy gave her a skeptical look, but she was grinning.

"Did you already forget the last time you guys argued about the dance team uniforms?"

"We were discussing!"

"'Discussing' is a light way of putting it. I'm pretty sure they could hear you all the way over in downtown Castanet."

Beth held up her hands before Luna could deliver a retort. "Okay, okay," she said. "I'll talk to Selena. Can we move on?"

"Yes," Gill said in agreement, rubbing his temples. Five minutes and he was already feeling the beginnings of a migraine – this didn't bode well for the rest of the meeting. "Candace, what's next on the agenda?"

"Um…fundraising for prom."

"That's _my_ area of expertise," Kathy piped up. "I say we use Open House as a chance to do some heavy fundraising."

Gill raised his eyebrows. "Open House isn't until late March," he commented. "I don't think that will give us enough time."

"I second that," Luna said.

"You would," Kathy muttered under her breath, but only Gill – who was sitting next to her – heard it. He ignored the comment, since Luna appeared not to have heard.

"Well, Open House is a good idea," Beth said diplomatically, "but maybe it shouldn't be our primary fundraiser. Candace, do you have any ideas?"

The quiet secretary brought a hand to her mouth in thought. "Um…we could talk to the music department," she contributed shyly. "Maybe they could donate some of their funds from selling concert tickets…"

Luna clapped her hands together. "Perfect," she enthused. "The music department is _great_ at fundraising, especially the choirs. Beth?"

"On it." Beth was already scribbling the plan down in her notebook.

"We could probably put together another fundraiser," Kathy said, already over the rejection of her previous idea. "Gift wrap?"

"That's such an elementary school thing to do," Luna complained, rolling her eyes. Kathy sighed, but let the comment pass.

"Okay, how about candles?"

"Too senior citizen."

"Cookie dough?"

"That could work," Beth interrupted before Luna could say anything. "Or candies."

"Yeah, because Valentine's Day is coming up next month," Kathy commented. "Or…actually, the rest of Student Government was talking about selling rose-grams this year."

Luna wrinkled her nose. "'Rose-grams?' Did they do that last year?"

"They did it two years ago," Beth explained. "About two weeks before Valentine's Day, Student Government sets up a few tables around campus during lunch, and then people can place orders to have roses delivered to their friends or significant others in class on Valentine's Day. They can either send them anonymously or with a message."

"After we get all the orders in," Kathy continued, "we go and order the roses. Usually, since a lot of students participate, we can order in bulk and get a discount – so we end up making a profit. We didn't do it for the last two years because the Student Council back then didn't like the idea – they thought it was too cheesy or something – but the idea could make a comeback."

"It _is_ pretty cheesy," Luna observed. "Do you think people will go for it?"

"Oh, they will," Kathy said confidently. "Don't you worry about that part."

"Okay, rose-grams then," Luna said. "Anyone object?"

No hands were raised. Candace recorded the decision in her notes while the rest discussed the possibility of a prom fashion show. Luna was all for it, while Kathy was rather skeptical about the whole idea.

"It just seems a little…_pretentious_."

"How?"

Kathy shrugged. "I don't think high schoolers are really that interested in seeing their peers parade down a runway."

"Parents are, though," Luna said shrewdly. "I bet that if we can get some of the girls here to model, the parents will come flocking."

"What would be the theme?"

"Prom, obviously. I'm sure we could get some of the stores downtown to provide clothes – it's good for business, _and_ less creative people can start figuring out what to wear now."

"It's a bit unfair to the guys, though," Beth said. "Should we have a men's fashion show, or lump the two together?"

"If we can get enough guys to model," Luna replied, rolling her eyes at the implausibility of the idea, "then we should put them together. There's no way that anyone will come to a men's fashion show at the high school level."

"Maybe we can get Gill to model," Kathy suggested, only half-jokingly, and then all eyes turned to the student body president. He shook his head.

"Absolutely not."

"Oh, come on," Luna said. "Aren't you supportive of fundraising?"

"I am, but not when it involves personal embarrassment."

"It won't be embarrassing, it'll be fun!"

"Maybe for you…"

Beth hid a smile with one hand. "Well, it's not even definite yet," she said, "so we have plenty of time to persuade you later."

Kathy held up a finger. "Speaking of male humiliation – "

"Going to reveal your S&M fetish now?" Luna broke in dryly. Gill cracked a small smile at the comment; Candace looked mortified. Kathy rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"_No_…I wanted to mention that Mr. Castanet Coyote is two weeks before prom, so we should plan for that."

Gill felt his stomach tighten and his headache increase. Mr. Castanet Coyote (named after their school mascot) was a pageant hosted by Student Government every year – a _male_ pageant. The students would nominate ten junior or senior boys, who would then appear onstage to showcase three talents to the entire school. The school would then vote, and whichever boy got the most votes would then be crowned Mr. Castanet Coyote.

Gill had managed to escape the "festivities" – more like _torture_, from the way some of the contestants told it – for the last two years because he hadn't been eligible for nomination. But now he was a junior, and judging by the way that the other Student Council members were looking at him, nomination was inevitable.

Indeed, Kathy was already grinning at him. "I _was_ going to nominate Owen," she said, mentioning her football-playing boyfriend, "but I think I'll put my vote in for you, just so you'll get up on stage."

Gill held in a groan. "I would rather not."

"Not your choice!" Luna said, and she was right. The Mr. Castanet Coyote nominees would have to appear if they got enough votes for nomination. Gill sighed and wondered whether being unfriendly to the general student population would get them _not _to vote for him.

"Mr. Castanet Coyote's a pretty low-cost event," Kathy went on, thankfully steering away from the subject of Gill's possible nomination. "We just need to pass out ballots and have everyone come to the gym during the actual performance. And someone from the dance team will choreograph the opening dance and teach it to the nominees."

"We might have to make sure it's not too 'suggestive,'" Luna muttered. "Okay, I guess we can wait on the ballots. Right now – prom."

"Oh, yes. The appointing of the committee," Kathy said, rolling her eyes. "I'm out."

"M-Me too," Candace said, twisting her hands together. Gill raised his eyebrows at both of them.

"You two are the only seniors on Student Council…"

"But not in Student Government," Kathy said. "And anyway, Beth will be there – right, Beth?"

"Yeah," the Public Relations officer sighed.

"Me too," Luna piped up. Gill felt the headache throbbing hard at his temples; he pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to hide his irritation.

"I would really rather have a senior from Student Council leading the committee – "

"No problem," Luna chirped. "I've got that position covered."

There was a rather awkward silence in which everyone looked at her. Luna frowned. "What?"

"No offense, Luna," Kathy said delicately, "but I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"You've never been on a prom committee before," Candace quietly told her sister. "It's a lot of work…I don't know if you'll be able to handle it…"

"I can handle it!" Luna protested. Kathy frowned.

"You've never been on a prom planning committee, _and_ you're an underclassman. I just don't think that any of the other people on the committee are going to take you seriously." She held up a hand for silence when Luna opened her mouth to reply. "I think that we should probably let Beth handle this one."

"Me too," Candace agreed, then added, "Sorry, Luna…"

Luna pouted. "You're always underestimating me, just because I'm a sophomore!"

"I don't think that that's what they meant," Gill said, drawing the rest of the group's attention. "You've already made your leadership skills clear, but you have no experience in prom planning. Beth does, and she has shown that she handles responsibility well. You can always lead the committee next year, if you so choose."

"Um…" Beth finally spoke up. "I don't really have any problem with Luna leading the prom committee…"

Gill looked at her. She caught his glance and shut up.

Kathy cleared her throat. "Erm…everyone in favor of Beth leading the prom committee, raise your hand." She raised her hand at the same time that Gill raised his. Candace looked at her sister apologetically and raised her own hand. Finally, after a sigh, Luna raised her hand as well – much to Gill's relief. He really didn't want to spend the rest of the meeting dealing with her bruised ego.

Kathy elbowed Beth. "Raise your hand," she hissed. "Make it unanimous."

"But that'd just be voting for myself…"

"Just do it for the records!"

Beth raised her hand obediently, and Candace marked the results down in her notes. Gill lowered his hand and reached towards his bag. It was time for that first aspirin.

* * *

"Um…thanks," Beth said, hanging back to speak with Gill while the rest of the Student Council members filed out of the room. Gill raised his eyebrows at her.

"What for?"

"Explaining things to Luna…and for saying I handle responsibility well."

"You'd handle it better if you weren't always late," Gill replied dryly, as he shouldered his bag. Beth giggled a little, her cheeks flushing.

"Sorry…I was with a friend and kind of lost track of the time. Er…do you need a ride home today?"

"If you don't mind." The two of them had lived next door to each other ever since Gill and his father had moved from one side of town to the other. Superintendent Hamilton often needed the car for work, so Gill had taken to carpooling with his neighbor during high school. He didn't feel too bad about it – they both took the same route and participated in many of the same activities anyway, so why waste gas?

They went out into the almost empty school parking lot together. "Ready for the calculus test next week?" Beth asked.

"I think so – I just need to review antiderivatives a few more times. You?"

Beth sighed. "Definitely _not_, and I really need an A on this test too."

"You're not doing well in the class?"

She shook her head while unlocking the car door. "I don't understand any of this new stuff," she said sadly. "Math's definitely not my strong point…"

"Why are you taking calculus then?"

"My parents wanted me to. I think they're still clinging to the hope that I'll magically start loving math and become an engineer or something."

Gill slid into the passenger seat. "Will you?"

"No. If I haven't caught on by this point, I don't think I ever will. Anyway, I'm getting as far away from math as possible – English lit, all the way! But first I actually have to pass the class."

She started the car, reversing out of the parking space. Gill stared out the window, considering. "…Do you want help?" he finally said. Beth glanced at him briefly while paused at the stop sign.

"What do you mean?"

"I've tutored before. I'm sure I could help you in calculus if you needed it."

"Really? God, that would be great. Thank you so much." Beth grinned at him, and Gill shifted uncomfortably; he wasn't very good at accepting gratitude.

"You're welcome," he said, then changed the subject. "Did you speak to the owner of Café Ocarina about catering for prom?"

"Yes. No. Well, not exactly. She wasn't there when I went for lunch, but I asked one of my friends who works there and he said that he'd pass on the message."

"Do you think they will say yes?"

"Probably. Chase seemed pretty sure about it, anyway." Beth suddenly seemed to think of something and glanced over at him, grinning. "So, excited about Mr. Castanet Coyote?"

Gill allowed himself to groan a little. "I was hoping everyone would forget about it."

"Oh, come on. Kathy already said she wanted to nominate you, and Luna will probably do it too. You just need three more votes, and then you're in."

"Then I'd better start endorsing another candidate," Gill said grimly, only half-joking. Beth laughed.

"Personally, I'd love to see you get up and perform. You need to loosen up!"

Gill sighed. "It's not like I haven't heard that before…"

"That's because it's _true_! Come on. Don't you want to be famous?"

"I hardly think that being Mr. Castanet Coyote counts as being famous…"

"Oh, you know what I mean. Famous at the high school level." Beth waved a hand vaguely to illustrate her point. "You should participate. You know, show support for school spirit! Or something…"

Gill rolled his eyes. "I would rather just make posters."

"Well, you _could_ get involved with the fashion show," Beth said slyly. Gill scowled.

"Absolutely not."

"Think of what we could put on the advertisement!" Gill looked over, alarmed, as Beth took her hands off the wheel and gestured as though seeing the words in lights. "'Our student body president, strutting his stuff on the runway.' It'd be great!"

"Put your hands back on the wheel, please."

"Oops. Sorry."

The trip seemed surprisingly short, Gill thought, as Beth pulled onto their street. Whenever he rode with his father or drove himself, it seemed to take longer. He was still pondering the thought as he got out of the car. "Thanks for the ride."

"No problem." Beth locked the car and leaned against it. The afternoon light made her brown eyes shine amber. "I'll see you Monday."

"Sure."

She smiled and waved. "Have a good weekend," she called, as she jogged up the front driveway to her house. Gill watched her go, then turned towards his own house.

_Maybe the drive seemed shorter because Beth drives faster…_

* * *

_A/N: Silly Gill. It didn't seem faster because Beth drives faster – it's because you liked talking with her! :D_

_Okay, this chapter was unbearably dull, I know…but I had to kind of set up the student council dynamic a little, and foreshadow a ton for the rest of the story. Sigh…I was actually going to have another "memory" chapter, but I think that'll be the next chapter._

_Most of the events that the Student Council talked about are based off of events that really happen at my high school. Yeah, some things you're really glad to get rid of when you graduate..._

_I'm glad everyone liked last chapter and all the interactions between Chase and Beth! Yeah, they're good friends and to respond to Winter Oak's review: Gill provides competition because he'll be the first to challenge Chase's long-standing friendship with Beth, and the whole thing will provide a catalyst for the guy to make a move. Writing Gill and Beth is the hardest though…Chase and Beth, Gill and Chase, I can do, but Gill and Beth turns out kind of stilted. I had to rewrite this section like five times just because of that. I hope it still seems believable! I avoided major interaction in this chapter, but trust me, there will be lots more action later._

_Chapter title comes from "Riot Gear" by Regina Spektor._

_Big thank-yous for continued support from_ **EvilGiggles13, Winter Oak, Belphegor and Rasiel** _(you changed your name!)_**, and thy pantaloons**_, as well as a new review from _**iChocoLove**_. I'm glad you guys all liked the last chapter so much...it's kind of funny that this fic is significantly shorter than _Damn Everything But the Circus_, but has gotten so many more reviews. Hehe._

_I wish I had a beta reader..._


	5. Let Me Stand By You, Loneliest Light

**Triple Threat  
****4. Let Me Stand By You, Loneliest Light**

Gill was already waiting outside when Beth bounded out of her house at 7:33, her hair still damp from her shower and only one arm in her jacket. "Let's go let's go let's go," she muttered past the corner of the piece of toast she held in her mouth. "Oh my god, we're going to be _late_."

Gill raised his eyebrows and climbed into the car. "Didn't your alarm go off?"

Beth shoved the keys into the ignition and pulled out of the driveway so fast she almost ran right into the house across the street. "No!" she cried, taking the toast out of her mouth. "I forgot to set it last night! Damn, damn, _damn_."

"Calm down," Gill said, watching her struggle to get her other arm into her jacket. "I don't think we're going to be late."

Beth shot him an incredulous look. "Unless I break some serious speed limits," she said, "we're going to be late."

They made it to the school in eight minutes flat – four minutes before the final bell. Beth lunged out of the car, cramming the last piece of toast into her mouth and pushing loose strands of hair out of her face. "Ugh, stupid hair," she groaned, feeling her wrists for a spare elastic and finding none. Their footsteps echoed down the empty corridors. "I'm _really really _sorry," she apologized as they turned the corner. "I feel so bad about this – I almost made you late."

"It's alright," Gill said, opening the door to their first period class – U.S. History – and motioning for her to enter first. The bell rang just as the door swung shut behind him. Their teacher, Mr. Zhang – coincidentally the only Asian teacher in the school that didn't teach math or a language class – looked up and raised his eyebrows.

"Cutting it a little close there, aren't we, Ms. O'Keefe, Mr. Hamilton?" he asked dryly. Beth offered him an apologetic smile.

"Alarm clock malfunction," she explained, while heading down the aisles to her seat. "It was my fault." The class tittered a little. Beth sat down next to Chase, who raised his eyebrows at her.

"You almost made the Führer late," he whispered. "You're definitely in for a whipping now."

"Shh," Beth hushed him as Mr. Zhang began his lecture. Five minutes into it, her phone buzzed silently in her front pocket. Glancing to make sure Mr. Zhang was busy at the board, she drew it out silently and checked the screen.

_1 New Text Message  
Don't forget to talk to S about dance! :) – K_

Kathy. And it was a good thing, too – Beth had almost forgotten. She pocketed the cell phone and went back to taking notes, all the while planning out what she was going to say to Selena later.

* * *

"So, nice going," Chase said to her as they were packing up their things for second period. "What happened with the alarm clock?"

"I forgot to set it," Beth said, running her fingers through her almost-dry hair. "I don't understand – how are you always here on time?"

Chase rolled his eyes. "My roommate is a kid with OCD. He gets up at exactly the same time every day and makes a bunch of noise cleaning his side of the room. Plus, the orphanage serves breakfast at exactly seven o'clock, and if you're not downstairs by then, you don't get food, period. And then there's the _bus_, which gives everyone an extra incentive to not be late, seeing as how it's our only method of transportation to the school – "

"Okay, okay," Beth laughed, holding up a hand. "I get it. Orphanage life equals forced punctuality."

"One of the only perks," Chase retorted, following her out of the room – and nearly crashing into Gill as the other boy moved to speak with Beth. Gill spared him a glance.

"May I borrow Beth for a moment?"

"Only if you promise not to scratch her, drop her, or spill random fluids on her," Chase intoned, completely deadpan. When Gill gave him an uncomprehending look, he rolled his eyes. "That means _yes_. Go ahead. I'm not her keeper."

"_Chase_," Beth said in an admonishing tone of voice. He looked at her with wide eyes.

"What, you _want_ me to be your keeper? Beth, I thought you'd never ask!"

She shook her head, though the smile on her lips was clearly visible. "You're hopeless," she laughed, then turned to Gill. "Sorry. What was it you wanted to ask?"

"Did you want to meet today to study calculus?"

"Um…sure. Lunch?"

"We have a Student Council meeting."

"Oh, right. Bummer. Um…can we maybe meet after school, in the library?"

Gill considered. "That sounds fine. Are you going to calculus now?"

"Mm…nah. I think I'll stop by my locker first. I'll see you there."

Chase raised his eyebrows as Gill left. "Meeting with the Führer," he said. "Is this a _date_?"

"_No_," Beth said with emphasis, tugging at his sleeve to indicate that he should follow her down the hall. "He's just going to help me out with calculus, so that I don't completely fail the test on Friday."

"Ah." Chase considered for a moment. "I could've helped you."

"Oh, yes," Beth snorted, turning her eyes skyward. "Mr. I'm-the-only-junior-in-my-Calculus-BC-class."

"Hey, that means I'm more qualified than he is to help you."

"Yes, but if you tried to tutor me, we'd end up getting totally off topic and not get anything done, and then I'd fail calculus."

"So it's a good thing that Gill's an unemotional stiff."

"Ye – _no_! Chase, that's not nice. Gill is not an unemotional stiff."

"Ah, but you agreed with me at first. Freudian slip, that was."

Beth sighed as she spun the dial on her locker. Tugging her jacket off – it was quite a bit warmer inside than it was outside – she shoved it into her locker, then pushed a long strand of hair out of her face. "My hair's getting way too long," she observed, abruptly changing subjects. "Think I should cut it?"

Chase glanced at her face, at her hair, then – inexplicably – at her chest. She folded her arms self-consciously. "What?"

A small smile tilted the corner of his lips. "Your shirt's unbuttoned."

She looked down, alarmed – and indeed, it was. Three whole buttons. She could see quite a bit of her bra, in fact. Beth blushed very hard and grabbed the edges of her shirt, yanking them together. "God," she muttered, fighting with the buttons. "Did I just flash the entire hallway?"

"Nope, just me," Chase said, in suspiciously happy tones. She squinted at him.

"You _enjoyed_ that, didn't you?"

"Just your embarrassment, not the sight of your nonexistent cleavage."

"Hey!"

"Mostly I was shocked by how neon that thing was. Do you always wear bright orange underwear, or is this just a special occasion?"

"Chase!"

"Ooh, I know – it's for the Führer, isn't it? I _knew_ you were going to pull something at lunch today – "

"_Chase_!" She smacked him with her calculus textbook and he yelped, rubbing his arm.

"_Ow_. Jesus, woman, what's your damage?"

"Rrgh…" Beth slammed her locker door rather harder than she needed to and stomped off down the hallway. "I'm going to calculus," she called over her shoulder. Chase waved cheerfully.

"Tell me what the Führer thinks of your neon bra," he called, drawing a few strange looks from passerby in the hallway. Beth didn't look back; she just ducked her head and walked faster. Chase chuckled quietly to himself, then turned to head off to biology.

* * *

Student Government was a rather harrowing period, since the rest of the prom committee had to be put together – and that brought about quite a bit of arguing, glaring, and name-calling. Beth sighed and massaged her temples in a very Gill-like manner. Now she understood why Gill was always taking aspirin during meetings; Student Government was like Student Council with twice the drama and five times the volume.

By the end of the period, she was saddled with five seniors plus Luna. None of the seniors looked particularly happy to be taking marching orders from a junior – indeed, as soon as they sat down for lunch with the rest of the Student Council, one girl immediately asked, "So why does _she_ get to lead the prom committee?"

"Because she is the most qualified and the most experienced out of the entire Student Council," Gill recited tiredly, having gone over this before. The seniors, however, were not satisfied.

"That's so…_elitist_," one of them said, waving a hand in the air. "I mean, just because the rest of us didn't win a popularity contest doesn't mean that we aren't equally as qualified for the position." She folded her arms across her chest and stared challengingly at Beth. "I say we have a reelection."

There were a few mumbled sounds of agreement. Kathy glared at the seniors, but before she could speak, Gill interrupted.

"There will be no reelection," he said, a hint of steel in his tone. "I will say it one more time – Beth is the most qualified out of the entire Student Council, as well as the entire Student Government class. She is far more responsible than any of you, and moreover, I trust her to do a good job. If anyone else complains, you're off the prom committee."

One of the seniors protested. "You can't do that – "

Gill turned his glare on her. "I'll go to Mr. Brothers if I have to," he replied, very coolly.

Everyone shut up at that – it was a serious threat, after all. Mr. Brothers was the Student Government teacher and advisor to Student Council; six-feet tall and no-nonsense, he had the final say on all decisions and his sense of justice was harsh. No one wanted the wrath of Mr. Brothers upon their heads.

"U-Um," Beth said, into the awkward silence. "Er, thanks, Gill. Now…" She cleared her throat, which had suddenly gone dry. "Let's discuss…decorations, shall we?"

* * *

_A memory._

"Give that back!"

"Jump for it, bookworm! Jump for it!"

Gill, scrawny and small at nine years old, bent his knees and leapt as high as he could. His grasping fingers fell several inches short of the object he was reaching for. Nicole Richards, tallest girl in the fifth grade class and bully by default, laughed at his attempt. "That was _pathetic_," she crowed. "Just like _you_."

"Give it back!" Gill yelled, pale face flushed with anger. "I _need_ that!"

Nicole rolled her eyes and tossed the inhaler from hand to hand. "This stupid thing?" she said, dangling it just out of Gill's reach by thumb and forefingers. "Ha, what is this? A toy?"

"_No!_"

"Hm…I wonder how far I could toss it…"

"No, don't!" Gill made a lunge for the inhaler; Nicole evaded him easily.

"Let's see!" She wound up, then threw. The small object sailed through the air and into the field, out of sight. Gill watched it go – and felt his lungs beginning to seize a little in panic. He flew at Nicole, pounding ineffectually at her with his small fists.

"Give it back, give it back!" he screamed. Nicole pushed him away, disgusted. He landed hard on the ground.

"Hey!"

The new voice caught Nicole's attention; she turned. Gill followed her line of sight. A small girl stood a few feet away, hands on her hips and lower lip thrust out in an expression of defiance. She pointed an accusing finger at Nicole. "You'd better go find that!"

"Why should I?" Nicole fired back belligerently.

"Because that's his medicine!" the girl retorted. "If he doesn't have it, he'll die, and then everyone will know that it's your fault since you threw his medicine away, and then the police will come and take you away and you'll be in jail forever!"

"That's a lie," Nicole said, though fear drained a little of the color from her cheeks. "You're lying!"

"Am not!" the girl cried. "And even worse, if he dies, you'll go to _hell_!"

Nicole's face turned completely white. In a Catholic community, the threat of hell was a very serious one indeed. The girl, sensing victory, took a few steps forward. "Go find it!" she said, right into Nicole's face.

Nicole went, but not before a parting shot. "Just you wait," she called back at the girl. "If you're lying, I'm gonna get you!"

"Go ahead and try!" the girl yelled back, fearless. "I have an older brother! He's fourteen and he's lots bigger and tougher than you are! He'll beat you up in a second!"

When Nicole was out of earshot, the girl reached down and helped Gill to his feet. "Thanks," he wheezed, putting a hand to his chest. She cast him a worried look.

"You're not _really_ going to die, are you?"

"No…"

"I'll take you to the office."

And she did. The nurse fussed over him for a moment and produced an emergency inhaler – Gill hadn't even known that his father had given the school such a thing. Within ten minutes, his breathing had calmed and he had stopped wheezing. The girl looked at him with wide, worried eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Better now," he whispered, exhausted now that all of the excitement was over. "W-What's your name?"

"Beth," she replied. "You're Gill, right?"

He nodded. Then, too curious to hold back, he asked, "Do you really have an older brother?"

"Yeah, but I kind of lied," she said, shrugging. "Jon's fourteen, but he's really skinny and really lazy. He probably couldn't even beat _me_ up."

Gill laughed a little, and the girl smiled at him. "I think Nicole will find your inhaler," she said, standing up. "I'll go tell Mr. Vanderbilt what happened."

"Okay," Gill said. "Um…I owe you one."

Beth grinned. "Wanna shake on it?"

Gill had no idea what this meant, but when Beth held out a hand to him, he took it. Solemnly, the two of them shook hands. Beth spoiled the serious moment by giggling.

"Okay. The next time you help _me_ out, we'll be even, okay?"

Gill nodded.

He didn't forget.

* * *

_A/N: Aww…this was kind of bad, I'm sorry. Not much Gill, a little Chase, mostly Beth…argh. Another filler chapter that I'm not altogether happy with, but I needed to set the scene some for later chapters. I swear, things will begin to pick up next chapter._

_Sorry about the slow updating – I was in Europe for about two weeks, and then when I got back I was just too jetlagged and tired to write. But hopefully I can get into this fic with renewed energy after my brief hiatus. :)_

_Thanks to_ **EvilGiggles13, Rhinoceros, **_and_ **Winter Oak **_for faithfully reviewing yet again. And thanks to_ **Fox, LGC, Ceray, **_and_ **DemonFoxToy** _for just picking up on this story. Your guys' feedback means to much to me – you have no idea._

_Title is from the song "Beacon" by A Fine Frenzy._

_Review review!_


	6. In My Head I Can Do No Wrong

**Triple Threat  
****5. In My Head I Can Do No Wrong**

"I feel bad about this," Beth admitted. "I feel like...I dunno, I should be paying you back or something."

It was six 'o' clock, and Gill and Beth were only just leaving the school library. Not necessarily by choice, either - they'd been shooed out by several stern-faced librarians with regard to the impending closing time. Gill tugged the strap of his messenger bag higher up on his shoulder, glancing at the brunette by his side as he did so. "It's fine," he murmured. "I needed to study anyway."

Beth shook her head, making her hair fall into her face again. Impatiently, she pushed the wayward strands back and waved a hand dismissively at Gill's reply. "You barely got to study at all!" she said accusingly. "I saw you – you were helping me almost the whole time, and when you weren't, your book was _always_ open to the exact same page!"

Gill raised his eyebrows. "Maybe I was just reviewing a particular section at the time," he countered, and Beth rolled her eyes in a very Chase-like manner.

"You were not," she countered. "You were on some part of chapter one. That's _review_. Like, the stuff that we learned last year, in Intro to Analysis, which I _know_ that you know by now." She squinted at him as they walked into the parking lot. "Don't be a liar, Gill Hamilton," she said, and Gill wasn't sure whether to take the statement seriously or in jest.

He compromised with a bland, "I try not to be," and got into the passenger seat beside her. Beth didn't start the car yet, instead turning around in her seat to frown thoughtfully at him.

"It still feels too much like you're tutoring me," she muttered, almost to herself. "And tutors should get paid, one way or another."

Had this been a porno – or the theater of Chase Moretti's mind – Gill would have waggled his eyebrows, leered, and said, "Well, I know _one_ way you can pay me back," and their focus in tutoring would have switched to an entirely different subject matter. Anatomy, perhaps, with hands-on instruction.

But of course, this wasn't a porno – or, indeed, the theater of Chase's often-dirty little mind – and Gill happened to be in character, so instead of smirking like a pervert, he shrugged noncommittally and said, "Consider it a favor." _For being one of the few members of Student Government I can actually stand to be around without wanting to bash my head in with a blunt object,_ he added silently, then wondered at himself.

(We pause for a moment so that the angry professor/schoolgirl porno fans will stop throwing tomatoes at the authoress for the lack of smexy action.)

Beth was shaking her head, more vehemently this time. "No, no, this is going to make me feel bad for the rest of my life if I don't pay you back," she sighed. She glanced at the digital time display on the car's dashboard. "Can't I at least buy you dinner or something?" she asked. "You know, as some sort of meager reward for wasting so much of your time."

Gill, mildly tempted to accept – it _was_ about time for dinner, and he was starting to feel rather hungry – had to decline. "No, thanks. I need to get home and help my father cook." He hesitated, then added, "I'm sorry."

He watched a disappointed look settle over Beth's features as she sighed and started the car, backing out of the parking lot. He wanted to say something else now, something that would make her stop looking so unhappy – no one should ever look _that_ despondent over one rejected invitation to dinner, unless it was for a date or something – but he wasn't exactly good at emotional interaction, so Gill pressed his hands against his knees and did not say anything at all.

They drove in a slightly awkward silence for several minutes, until Beth – who obviously recovered rather quickly from disappointment – spoke again. "You know," she said musingly, "even though we live next door to each other and carpool to and from school every day, I don't think my parents have ever met your dad."

Gill had to admit that she was right. After his mother's death, his father – though a cheerful, friendly man by nature – had sunk into a deep depression, which had lasted long after they'd moved into their new house. Solicitous neighbors who stopped by to welcome the new family to the neighborhood found that nobody ever answered the doorbell when it rang, and Gill's father wouldn't even venture out of the house to shop for groceries, let alone to attend a social gathering.

By the time Hamilton recovered from losing his wife, the rest of the neighborhood had grown used to their presence – however quiet and somewhat unwelcoming though it was – and going about to introduce himself and his son would have been a rather awkward gesture. As a result, Gill didn't know any of the families in his neighborhood; he wasn't even sure if Beth had siblings or not, despite having been in school with her for so long.

He had to wonder where the girl was going with this. "So?"

Beth smiled. "I was thinking that you and your dad should come over for dinner sometime."

Gill turned to stare at her. It wasn't exactly intentional, but he'd been so surprised by what she'd said that he could only gape, completely at a loss for words. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a sarcastic voice told him that he looked like an uncouth idiot, making that face.

It didn't help that, just a second after he thought this, Beth glanced over to gauge his reaction and giggled. "Your mouth's open, Gill," she informed him. And, before he could so much as blink at this statement, she reached over and gently pushed his jaw upwards, closing his mouth and surprising him even further.

"Um," he said intelligently. "Why?"

"Why is your mouth open, or why should you and your dad come over for dinner?" Beth teased. "Well, I can't really answer the first one, but as for the second one – we're still on the subject of compensation, right? I can't buy you dinner because you need to help your dad cook. So, if you bring him along to dinner at my house, then voila! Problem solved."

She held up a hand as though sensing Gill's reply. "Don't say no yet," she told him cheerily as they pulled onto their street. "I need to ask my parents – though I'm sure they'll say yes – and you need to ask your dad. I'll let you know once we set a date, okay?"

Gill was completely bewildered by all of this hypothetical planning. As he got out of the car, he half-hoped that Beth's parents would say no, and that the whole idea would fall flat.

But then again, he mused as he waved goodbye, if there was one thing he knew for sure about Beth, it was that once she had a plan, she would see it through to the end. So Gill unlocked his front door and resigned himself to the fact that yes, he and his father would most likely be having dinner with the O'Keefes within the next week.

* * *

Chase's roommate at the orphanage was a boy named Miles. Even at the tender age of thirteen, Miles already had the biggest bags under his sad, cow-brown eyes that Chase had ever seen. That, coupled with the gray hairs sprinkled in among his natural brunette coloring, made Miles look even older than Chase (who was perpetually cursed with looking younger than he actually was, despite his tall build). His mouth was almost constantly pinched into a worried frown, a permanent furrow worked into his brow from prolonged stress. In other words, he was the most strung-out, tense, downright _anxious_ person that Chase had ever met.

He also happened to be completely enamored with Chase's best (and, arguably, _only_) friend.

Beth came to visit the orphanage occasionally, when Chase wasn't out working. Chase had protested it in the beginning – it wasn't as though the place was anything to be proud of, after all – but Beth had waved off his objections. "How else am I going to see you?" she had asked, frowning at him. "You can't drive – all you have is that beat-up bike that you ride to work on. I'm not going to ask you to bike across town just to meet me."

There was always the bus, Chase had pointed out, but by that point Beth was pretending to ignore him, preferring instead to become acquainted with some of the orphanage's younger inhabitants. Eventually he'd just given it up. Privately, he was sort of glad. Most of the kids at school had no idea that Chase was an orphan – and he would rather keep it that way – Beth was probably the only person that he would trust with seeing the state of his "home" (he used the word in a rather loose sense here) life.

But anyway, back to Miles.

There was a knock on the door, and Chase yelled, "Come in." The door creaked wildly as it swung open, and though Chase was lying on his bed face down, he could tell from Miles' sharp intake of breath who had just walked in.

"Thanks, Chase, no need to get up on my account. Hi, Miles."

"Hi, Beth," Chase's roommate mumbled, and Chase grinned into his pillow. He wasn't sure to this day why Miles had a crush on Beth – maybe it was because she was only person who didn't make cracks about his OCD – but he did know one thing.

It was funny as _hell_ to watch.

Chase felt his bed sag a little on one end as Beth sat down, moving his legs out of the way as she did. "How was the tutoring session?" he said, rolling onto his back.

Beth shook her head, smiling. "I had a feeling you'd ask me that."

"Ha, you don't know me well enough. What I meant to say was, did you let the Führer get to second base?"

He snuck a look at Miles as he said this. The younger boy's eyes, usually heavy-lidded with exhaustion, had flown wide open at Chase's words. Beth, completely oblivious, huffed a sigh.

"Chase…"

"Oh, you didn't? So I guess that neon bra went to waste then."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Miles' face go an alarming shade of red. Chase snickered silently to himself. With that innocent little comment, he'd probably given Miles enough fantasy material for a month.

Beth rolled her eyes. "I typically make my dates take me out for dinner _before_ they get to see my underwear."

"Ooh, aren't you _classy_. So you've got a dinner date with the Führer?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. This weekend."

"_What_?" Chase sat bolt upright at this, almost smacking his forehead into Beth's in the process. "What do you mean?"

"Calm down, geez. It's just – "

"You're going on a _date_? For God's sake, when did this happen?"

"Chase, _stop_. I – "

"You've never dated in your _life_, and now you decide to start? With _Gill Hamilton_? _What the hell, Beth_?"

Beth looked irritated now. "First of all," she said, in peeved tones, "did I ever actually _say_ it was a date? No, it's a _dinner date_. Second, his father and my parents are going to be there. At my house. Third, it's not out of any romantic reason. I wanted to thank him for helping me out with calculus and my parents have never met Superintendent Hamilton even though we're next door neighbors, so I figured it was a good idea. It's not a _date_, so you can _calm down_, okay?"

Chase stared at her for a moment, not quite sure what to say. He felt sort of embarrassed at how badly he'd overreacted, but that was to be expected. What he _hadn't_ expected was the wave of relief that had washed over him when Beth said that it wasn't a date. Where had _that_ come from?

_I'm just glad I'm not about to lose my friend to some jerk_, he told himself honestly, and left it at that, even though there was still a niggling feeling that that wasn't _quite_ it.

"Chase? Chase, say something. I get worried when you go all quiet."

He focused on Beth's face. She'd lost the annoyed scowl and now looked rather concerned at his silence. He couldn't blame her – he was rarely at a loss for (usually sarcastic) words. Chase searched for something to say.

"…How come you never invited _me_ over for dinner?" was what came out of his mouth. Chase was appalled, both at the pathetic nature of the question and at the vulnerable tone in which it had been spoken. Beth looked surprised.

"Um…I...well, you _know_ just as well as I do that you can cook about a billion times better than anyone in my family can, so I thought it'd be a little unfair!"

Chase just looked at her. Beth sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "Sorry, that was kind of pathetic. I don't really have an excuse…I'm sorry."

_It's because you don't have parents that you can take to meet hers,_ the mean, bitter voice in the back of Chase's head snarked at him. He forced himself to ignore it.

"You can come over some other time," Beth was saying. "Can you not look so depressed, Chase? It doesn't look right on your face."

It seemed to take a great amount of effort to convince his facial muscles to work themselves into a smile. "I'm not depressed," Chase said with false cheer. "You're right, I _could_ probably cook better than anyone in your family. So, if anything, you should be coming to my house for dinner. Except not, because, you know, the obvious."

"Well, aren't we modest," Beth said, though she still looked a little concerned. "Maybe you should just cook the dinner at my house then, and then we'll serve it to you."

"I think I like the idea of you serving me," Chase replied, pretending to leer at her. Beth smacked him on the arm. "Ow."

But she was smiling. "In a French maid costume and everything," Chase continued, just to see her blush. She did not disappoint.

Neither did Miles, who both of them had forgotten about by that point. A squeak reminded them of his presence, and Chase turned just in time to see his roommate, now almost purple in the face, disappear under the covers. Beth looked at the lumpy shape under the blankets in concern. "Is he okay?"

Chase shrugged. "I think it's normal for people to want to hide when in your presence. _Ow!_ It was a joke, stop hitting me!"

* * *

Miles did not emerge until after Beth had left. Disheveled and still slightly pink in the face, he went around the room straightening his things again. Chase watched him, amused.

"Got enough masturbation material for the week?" he said. It was a rather crude statement, but it was worth it just to see Miles' face.

"I-I don't think about Beth like that!" he stammered out, whirling to face his roommate.

"Who said anything about Beth?" Chase said slyly. The look of horror on Miles' face was absolutely priceless.

"I _don't_!" he repeated, in a sort of panicked cry. Chase rolled his eyes.

"Oh, please. You're thirteen. Probably about eighty to ninety percent of your brain is occupied with girls. Though seriously, you could do a lot better than that flat-chested midget."

"W-Why do you talk about her like that?"

"Eh?"

"You insult her all the time and you make perverted jokes about her to her face. I thought that she was your friend."

"She _is_ my friend," Chase said, surprised. "It's called _sarcasm_. It's what bitter jerks like me use to amuse ourselves in life."

Miles stared at him for a moment, eyes wide with confusion. But eventually the mess of his bed was too much for his OCD to handle, and he turned around to start straightening the bedspread. Chase flopped over to stare at the ceiling.

"Who's Gill Hamilton?" Miles asked suddenly. Chase snorted.

"Some guy from school. Stuck up little snot."

"Oh. Why do you call him 'the Führer?'"

"I'm not explaining it. If you knew this guy, you'd understand."

Silence for another moment. Then:

"Does Beth like him or something?"

"What?" Chase said before he could stop himself. "No, I heard you the first time. I'm pretty sure she doesn't."

"How do you know?"

"Because she never talks about him, outside of Student Council business," Chase snapped, though a sense of unease was starting to penetrate his thoughts. Beth wasn't the type to blab about a crush, no matter who it was. And if she _did_ like Gill, she _definitely_ wouldn't mention it to Chase, who was bound to overreact. He shook his head, annoyed at himself for overthinking so much. What would _he_ care if Beth liked Gill anyway? "Why do you want to know?"

Miles sat on the floor instead of on his bed, in an attempt to keep it neat for as long as possible. "Um…"

"Wondering if you have a chance with her?" Chase said, perhaps a little meanly. Miles' pale cheeks flushed at this, but otherwise, he didn't react.

"Does he…um…like Beth?"

Chase rolled his eyes. "How the hell would I know? We don't talk." He turned over to face the wall, a clear indication that the conversation was over. But Miles was a persistent little gossip hound when he wanted to be, and his next question made Chase's shoulders tense involuntarily.

"Do _you_ like her?"

He sat up and turned to fix Miles with a slit-eyed glare; the other boy, timid by nature, flinched and averted his gaze. "What's with the personal questions?" Chase snapped. "Mind your own business."

Miles shut up at that, not wanting to rouse his roommate into an altercation. Chase turned to face the wall again, scowling.

In the back of his mind, a thought still bothered him. Was he more upset by the idea that Beth might like Gill, or that Gill might like Beth?

Or…was it something else entirely?

He tried to convince himself that Miles was only being nosy because he had some sort of stupid crush on Beth. It was better than the alternative, at least – that Miles was more perceptive than he tended to let on, and that he'd sensed something that Chase had not.

* * *

_A/N: And the catalyst is set. The romance part of this fic is underway! (Mutters of "finally" and "it's about time" from the audience)_

_I'm sorry this took so long! I'm actually in Taiwan at the moment and I wasn't allowed to bring my Mac (stupid Dad and his stupid…*mumblegrumble*), which meant that I had none of my documents with all my ideas for future chapters. This was written completely from scratch, and I had to keep getting on the internet and looking over the previous chapters to remember what kind of plot points I'd written in! . It was really rather pooey, if you ask me. I could've just waited until I got home, but I figured you guys would want an update before then (so much for faster updates…)_

_And just a side note on the first part of this chapter: I tried to imagine Gill with a backpack and failed. Then I imagined him with a messenger bag and practically fell over laughing at the mental image. But it fit. So, Gill with his prissy little messenger bag, hehe. Then again, I'm going to be using a messenger bag next year for college, so it's not as if I'm any better._

_The action will pick up now that the stage has been properly laid. Gill and Beth will be interacting more, and Chase is going to be thrown into a state of confused emotions. Well, I mean, _someone_ has to make that sarcastic little penguin realize how he feels, geez. And hehe, he spends all that time teasing Beth about Gill and once he thinks it's actually true, he just BLOWS UP._

_Thanks to _**Okapi95, That Dorky Chick, **_and_** IcePanther124**_ for new reviews, and to _**DemonFoxToy, Rhinoceros, **_and_ **Winter Oak** for_ continued support. It means a lot, and I hope you guys haven't left me just because I'm being slow!_

_Title is from "Last Man On the Moon" by SR-71._

_Review, and stay tuned for the next chapter!_


	7. So Just Call On Me Brother

**Triple Threat  
****6. So Just Call On Me Brother, When You Need a Hand**

On Tuesday morning, Gill woke up with a splitting headache and a throat that felt as though it had been sandpapered during the night. The sound of his coughing brought his father running into the room half-dressed, with his shirt unbuttoned and his tie flopping about his shoulders. "Gill?" Hamilton said worriedly. "Are you alright?"

Gill was unable to draw breath to answer. Bent almost double and hacking as though he was going to cough up a lung, he felt his father's hand on his forehead. Hamilton drew back almost immediately. "You're burning up!" he cried – a tad melodramatically for Gill's tastes.

"Must've…caught…something," Gill managed to gasp out. His vision was blurred with involuntary tears that all the coughing had squeezed out, and his head pounded sickeningly. Hamilton fluttered about like a worried mother hen.

"Should I call the school and let them know you'll be absent?" he said worriedly. Gill nodded silently in response, focusing on catching his breath, and Hamilton left the room in a flurry of movement. Gill flopped back onto the pillows, inwardly fuming. He _hated_ getting sick. It always meant a ton of makeup work, and if there was one thing Gill hated more than anything, it was being behind schedule. Plus, a lack of leadership would mean discontent Student Government members, and with the prom committee beginning their meetings now…The very thought made his headache intensify exponentially, and Gill forced himself to calm down before his rising blood pressure made his head explode.

_Hopefully Beth will be able to handle the committee,_ he thought tiredly to himself, then swore inwardly. _Beth._ He was supposed to be meeting her that morning to carpool to school, not to mention that they'd planned another Calculus study session that afternoon. _Dammit._ Stifling a cough in one hand, he reached for his cell phone on the bedside table.

Though he hated texting as a rule, Gill knew that his voice was in no condition for him to hold even a short conversation. So suppressing his distaste, he texted a short message to Beth, explaining his illness and apologizing for having to cancel their study session. He hesitated, then slowly added that if she wanted to cancel the prom committee meeting that day, she could.

Then he scowled and erased the last part of the message. What was he trying to do, sabotage the girl? The seniors on the prom committee were already distrustful of a junior's ability to lead them – having her cancel a meeting just because the student body president wasn't there to back her up would only make her seem weak.

_Don't be ridiculous,_ he told himself, sending the message off and hoping Beth would see it before she set off for school. _Beth is perfectly capable of handling herself when she has to. She doesn't need you to protect her._

The phone buzzed in his hand, and Gill answered automatically. He was seized with a fit of coughing as soon as he pressed the "answer" button, however, and nearly a minute passed before he could speak. "H-Hello?"

"_Gill? It's Beth. You sound terrible."_

The comment brought a smile to his lips in spite of the sickening throb inside his skull, and Gill cleared his throat briefly before answering. "I think I may be sick."

"_Yeah, I know. I got your message. Don't worry about the study thing – I'll figure something else out."_

"What about the prom committee?" Gill rasped out before he could stop himself. _I thought we went over this already,_ he berated himself exasperatedly.

"_What about it?"_ Beth sounded confused. _"We're still going to have the meeting. Unless you want me to cancel it…?"_

He coughed – his throat felt unimaginably parched and dry. "No…just go ahead with it."

"_I'll take notes and let you know what went on, if you want."_

"You…don't have to," Gill said hoarsely.

Beth's voice took on a teasing tone. _"You trust my judgment that much?"_

"Yes," Gill replied honestly, surprising both of them. _This fever must be affecting me more than I thought,_ he thought hazily, vision blurring a little. Beth seemed to sense his discomfort.

"_Well, I should leave you alone, I guess. I'll call you later, to see if you're up to going to school tomorrow, okay?"_

"Sure."

"_Alright then. Get some rest and feel better. Bye!"_

"Goodbye," Gill said, and hung up. He set the phone down slowly and leaned back, allowing his eyes to drift shut.

_See, she can handle herself,_ that smug, self-righteous voice in his head said, just before he fell asleep.

* * *

"What were you talking about Mr. Zhang about?"

Beth shuffled the small stack of papers in her hands and tucked the whole thing into her backpack. "I was asking him for an extra copy of the homework packet," she explained. "For Gill. He's absent today."

"I hadn't noticed," Chase said nonchalantly. "Sick?" He followed Beth as she made her way down the hall towards her locker.

"Some kind of cold, I think. He sounded really terrible on the phone."

"You _called_ him?"

"He texted me," Beth said absently, opening her locker. "I just wanted to make sure he was okay."

Chase rolled his eyes. "And, lemme guess, he made you pick up his work?"

Beth graced him with a slightly annoyed look. "_No_," she replied with emphasis, slamming her locker door. "I'm just doing it as a favor. You know, for a friend."

"Uh-huh."

"I'd do the same for you, geez."

"I'm not sure how I feel about the Führer getting the same treatment as me…"

"Oh, shut up. Hey, Gill's in your Art class, right?"

Silence.

"Chase?"

"I thought I was supposed to shut up."

Beth smacked his arm, but she was smiling. "Oh, you know what I mean."

"No, I don't. I have no idea," Chase said innocently. "And before you ask, I'm not picking up the Führer's homework for him. He can handle his late work on his own, the way normal people do. You know, people who _don't_ have their own personal secretaries?" He raised his eyebrows at Beth, who sighed.

"Oh, come on, Chase."

"No."

"Do it for me?"

"Uh-uh."

"But don't you _care_ about me?"

"What makes you think that's going to make me change my mind?"

Beth rolled her eyes. "I'll just go to Ms. Saunders and ask her myself, then. Thanks for making me do all that extra work."

"You're welcome," Chase retorted, then rolled his eyes at the look that she gave him. "Oh, stop it, I was being sarcastic. _Fine_, but I expect compensation."

"Don't say anything about sexual favors," Beth said warningly.

"I wasn't _going_ to," Chase replied, even though one had been right on the tip of his tongue. "Geez, Beth, you have the _dirtiest_ mind."

* * *

"So, thanks to you, I'm stuck with the Führer as my partner for our final project."

Beth looked up from her copy of _Their Eyes Were Watching God_, her eyes unfocused and expression slightly dazed. "Wha?" she questioned, mind still elsewhere. Chase huffed and flopped down into the seat in front of her, crossing his arms.

"I asked Saunders before class whether we had any assignments due, and she said that we were getting assigned our final project, and then she put me down as being the Führer's partner, because I was going to fill him in on the project anyway!" He threw his hands in the air with a disgusted expression on his face. "Now she thinks we're actually _friends_ or something. I'm never being a good Samaritan again. It sucks."

"It gets you good karma points," Beth said, hiding a smile. Chase scowled.

"Screw karma. I'd rather be reborn as a cockroach than have to deal with the Führer. At least I'd live through the apocalypse."

"I'm sure it won't be that bad," Beth said reasonably. "At least Gill doesn't slack off. What's the project on?"

"Portraits," Chase groaned. "We're supposed to do a series of portraits of each other. Each of the portraits is supposed to show some aspect of the other person's personality or background." He ran his fingers through his hair, making the strawberry-blond strands stand up wildly. Beth blinked at him.

"That's…kind of a personal project," she commented hesitantly.

"Yeah, well, Saunders is into 'friendship' and 'togetherness' and 'challenging personal boundaries' and all that hippie crap." Chase waved a hand dismissively. "Thanks, Beth. Now I'm going to be stuck painting the Führer's face for the rest of the semester."

"That's quite a long time."

"You have to do at least five paintings, and they can't be small. Saunders wants us to all 'get to know each other' during the project." He rolled his eyes. "Give me a two-hour test any day. This is way too touchy-feely for me."

"I think it's kind of nice."

"You _would_. If you like it so much, why don't you just do the project for me?"

Beth laughed. "No way. You've seen my art."

"If you can even call it that."

"Well, thanks for asking Ms. Saunders anyway," Beth said sincerely, reaching out to pat Chase's hand with a smile. "I owe you."

"I expect compensation – "

"Yes, you've said already. And don't – "

"Say anything about sexual favors? Who's repeating themselves now?"

Beth shook her head, smiling in a resigned sort of way. "You," she said, pointing at him with the book, "are absolutely hopeless."

"Get that thing away from me. I hate that book."

"Why? It's a classic of African-American, feminist literature."

"I'm not an African-American feminist. I'm not even female. Therefore, I don't care."

"That's not exactly what I meant…"

"A woman gets married to a bunch of different men. The end. See? Nothing to appreciate."

"Yes, there _is_. You're not looking into the deeper meaning. It's a story depicting the state of racism and sexism at the time. There is so much symbolism in this whole book, I can't believe you don't see it – "

Chase knew the warning signs – widened eyes, flushed cheeks, freely gesticulating hands – that meant that Beth was gearing up for one of her "Why Literature is Important" speeches. "The whole point of the novel is to show that a woman can be independent and happy without a man – "

He interrupted before she could get too far into it. "Yeah, especially with the invention of 'toys,'" Chase said, raising his eyebrows. Beth got the innuendo and flushed red.

"_Chase_!"

"Hey, I'm just saying – in a few years, women probably won't even _need_ men anymore. All they'll need is that little bit of battery-powered plastic, and – "

Beth hit him with _Their Eyes Were Watching God_. "You're disgusting," she muttered, still blushing. "I cannot believe you."

The bell rang, and their English teacher stood to begin that day's lesson. Chase turned around, prepared to at least _pretend_ to listen to Mr. DuPont's lecture on symbolism in _Their Eyes Were Watching God_. It wasn't as though he had to pay attention – Beth was always happy to ramble on about symbols and motifs and themes, and if she wasn't around…well, that was what SparkNotes was for.

"Really, though," Chase murmured to Beth as DuPont fiddled around with the overhead projector, cursing fluently under his breath when he discovered the bulb had blown. "Think you can be happy without a man in your life?"

"I've done pretty well up until now."

Chase feigned ignorance. "There have _too_ been men in your life. Your dad, your brother, me, the Führer – though I dunno if you can count him as a man…"

"_Chase._" Beth's voice was exasperated. "You know what I mean. Anyone can be happy without a significant other in their lives. Romantic involvement is a _choice_, not a requirement. Those who choose to risk it can achieve great happiness, or they can be badly hurt. But either way, they can always be happy without another person to hold them up. It's all in the mindset – "

"Ahem." Mr. DuPont's cough interrupted Beth's rant. The teacher had apparently fixed the overhead projector and was now leaning over it to look at them, the glow from the bulb casting eerie shadows on his face. "If Mr. Moretti and Ms. O'Keefe are finished with their little gossiping session," he said drily, "we can begin our discussion."

Beth, mortified, squeaked an apology and immediately withdrew back into her seat. Chase merely rolled his eyes and reached for his book.

_Too bad he made her shut up,_ he thought, as DuPont began his lecture. _She's more interesting than he is, ninety percent of the time._

* * *

The sound of the doorbell ringing startled Gill out of his lightly dozing state and into wakefulness. Rubbing a hand over his tired eyes, he squinted at the clock on his bedside table. _8:11 PM._ He heard his father answer the door, but the ensuing conversation wasn't loud enough to hear from Gill's bedroom. _Probably someone from work,_ Gill thought wearily. _I hope they don't stay over._

Gill sat up slowly, trying not to aggravate his still-lingering headache. He felt far better than he had that morning – the soreness in his throat had abated slightly, at least, and his head no longer felt like it was going to explode from the slightest move – so that meant that the medication was doing its work. Gill wasn't too surprised. His sicknesses were usually like this – alarming at their onset, but quick to retreat after some medicine and proper bed rest. It was likely that he would be able to go back to school in a day or two. _Good._ He didn't like to think of how much make up work he'd have to do upon his return.

He heard the door close, followed by Hamilton's heavy footsteps on the stairs. "Gill?" His father's head appeared around the door. "Ah, you're awake. How are you feeling?"

"Better than before," Gill said, voice still slightly raspy. "Who was at the door?"

"Oh, a classmate of yours. She brought by the work you missed today." Hamilton placed a small pile of papers on Gill's desk and sat in his chair, turning to face his son.

Gill's brow furrowed. He already thought he knew who the benefactor was, but he had to ask anyway. "Did you get her name?"

"Her name's Beth. Really sweet girl, very friendly, very polite. Did you know she lives next door to us?"

Gill fought the urge to slap his forehead in exasperation. "I've known for years, Father," he said. "I carpool to school with her."

Hamilton nodded happily, unfazed by this revelation. "Well, she's invited us over for dinner with her family on Saturday night, if you're feeling better by then. She was quite surprised that you hadn't told me yet, actually!" Hamilton winked. "Gill, have you been keeping secrets from your father?"

"She mentioned something about dinner yesterday, but nothing was confirmed yet," Gill said, trying to keep his tone level. There was a weird tone in his father's voice that he did _not_ like at all.

"Why did you never tell me you were friends with such a nice girl? Inviting us over for dinner, picking up your work for you…" Hamilton suddenly frowned. "You didn't _ask_ her to pick up your work, did you?"

"_No_," Gill sighed. "I never asked her to do it. I don't know why she did."

"Well! That's all right then." Hamilton leaned over to pat Gill's leg under the covers. "A really nice girl," he repeated again, as though Gill had not heard him before. "Get better soon! I really look forward to having dinner with them this Friday."

"Saturday."

"Yes, Saturday! Isn't that what I said?"

Gill shook his head inwardly, knowing better than to argue with his often-absentminded father. How the man had managed to become Superintendent was beyond him.

After Hamilton left to go fix dinner, Gill picked up his cell phone and dialed Beth's number. She picked up after two rings. _"Hello?"_

"Hi, Beth. It's Gill."

"_Oh, hey! How are you feeling?"_

"Better than before, thank you."

Beth laughed a little. _"You certainly sound better. Hey, I hope I didn't wake you up when I came by earlier. Your dad said you were sleeping."_

He had been sleeping, but Gill found himself lying anyway. "It's fine. I was about to wake up anyway."

"_Did you get the homework?"_

"I did. Thank you. You didn't have to do that."

"_Oh, it was no big deal. I know how much you hate late work and everything, so I figured I'd just pick it up for you so that you could work on it while you're stuck at home. I have a lot of the same classes as you anyway, and you just live next door – how hard could it be?"_

Gill had to smile a little at this. "And when is all of this due?"

"_Well, the U.S. History packet is due next Monday, and you know we have a Calculus test this Friday – but Mr. Pascal said that you can make it up later if you aren't back by then. The bio lab we did in class and is due tomorrow, but I talked to Mrs. Mortimer and she said that you should talk to her when you get back and the two of you can figure out how you can make it up. And…for your Art final project, the due date's on the top of the page – I can't remember it off the top of my head – and your partner's Chase Moretti. He's actually the one who picked up the packet for you, so…I can't really take credit for that one."_

Gill massaged his temples. This onslaught of information was a bit to take in all at once. "You…didn't have to talk to all the teachers for me," was all he could say.

"_It's all right – it only took a minute or two each. And they like it if you're up to speed as soon as you get back, so I figured it wouldn't hurt."_

"You don't have to do that next time."

"_It's no trouble, seriously. And don't argue with me about it – I mean, how are you going to stop me, seeing as how you're sick?"_

Gill shook his head, but he was smiling. "I suppose there's no deterring you," he sighed, and changed the subject. "How was the prom committee meaning?"

"_It went okay. I mean, there were some arguments about what kind of a theme we should have this year, but I think we worked out a pretty good compromise. I put a copy of my notes in the stuff I gave to your dad – you can take a look if you want."_

"Maybe later."

"_All right, then. Oh, I talked to your dad about dinner on Saturday when I came by earlier. He seemed pretty excited about it…but did you forget to tell him or something?"_

"We hadn't finalized the plans as of yesterday. I didn't think there was anything to say."

"_Oh. Guess that's my bad, then. Well, think you'll be better by then?"_

"I suppose."

"_Great! Then I'll be able to pay you back for all that Calculus tutoring, and your dad can meet my parents. Cool."_

A thought struck him as she mentioned the tutoring. "Did you find someone else to help you with Calculus?"

"_Oh, it's no big deal – I went in after school and asked Mr. Pascal a few questions. If I still need help, I'll just get Chase to help me or something, even though we'll probably just get sidetracked, like we always do…"_

"Well…good luck with your studying."

"_You too, even though you don't need it."_ There was a muffled shout in the background, and Beth lowered the phone to call, "I'll be right there!" in response. _"That's my mom yelling. I'd better go."_

"All right."

"_I'll come by around eight or so tomorrow to drop off any more homework we might have, okay?"_

"You don't – "

"_Have to, yeah. Don't worry about it. That's just what friends do for each other."_

Gill opened his mouth, but nothing came out. One word was stuck in his head. "…Friends?" he finally said.

"_Yeah, friends."_ Beth sounded slightly confused.

"We're friends?"

"_Gill, are you trying to offend me?"_ Beth asked teasingly. _"Of course we're friends."_ Another yell in the background. _"Okay, I seriously have to go now. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay? Bye!"_

"…Bye," Gill said, but she had already hung up. He lowered the phone from his ear, lost in thought.

_We're…friends?_

_Of course we're friends._ She'd seemed so sure about it. As though it never could have been otherwise.

Gill wasn't what anyone would call a "social" person. Despite his position as student body president, he mostly kept to himself. It wasn't that he disliked people; he just didn't see much of a point in meeting tons of his peers, only to realize that he knew next to nothing about any of them later on.

Could his fellow Student Council members be considered friends? Kathy he got along with relatively well, though he had no particular reason to seek her out outside of Student Council business. Candace was far too meek to relax around, and Luna…well, he didn't even want to think about that right now, it just made his headache even worse.

Beth was the only person he'd interacted with outside of Student Council business – by _choice_. And now that he considered it, she wasn't such bad company. Nonjudgmental, friendly, and always willing to listen, her presence was engaging without being demanding. Even Gill wasn't one for talking, he had to admit – she was very easy to converse with.

_Oh,_ he thought, and it occurred to him that his surprise was probably unwarranted, in this case. _I guess that makes us friends._

* * *

_A/N: Shiznitz, this chapter was long! Whew. I really didn't expect it to get super long like this, but I wanted to have that Gill/Beth interaction at the end. And then Chase took the middle section and completely ran away with it, cheeky bastard. Writing Chase is sometimes _too_ easy – it's because he's the most similar to me, speech-wise, so…I just have to kinda visualize what I'd say in the situation, and BAM. There it goes, spinning off out of control. Darn._

_By the way, I have no idea what all that stuff about _Their Eyes Were Watching God_ was about. I think I was trying to work in some comparisons and allusions and it all just fell flat. Forgive me, please._

_Haha, Gill is all like, "WHAT, WE'RE FRIENDS?" Silly, you've been friends since forever. You just never knew it, because you're too focused on being so serious and professional all the time. Ah…boys are so clueless sometimes…And do you like how he totally doesn't react when his father says it? Probably cuz he's used to such comments from Hamilton by now, hehe._

_As for Beth's going kinda overboard helping Gill…it's just kind of her nature. She gets so carried away helping people sometimes. XD And Gill doesn't overreact and go like OMFG WTH WOULD YOU EVER DO THAT because he's an overachiever too. Just…kinda in a different way. :D_

_As for me…I'm going back to the States soon! I don't want to promise that chapter updates will happen faster, since school starts a little over a week after I get back…but I promise I'll try! Oh, I should update _Damn Everything But the Circus_ too…argh, too many things to do._

_Thanks to _**HamiGirl**_ for a new review (and in response to your question, the prologue is something that happens in the future - to give you a taste of what's to come ;)), and to _**Okapi95, Fox, That Dorky Chick, Rhinoceros, IcePanther124, **_and _**DemonFoxToy**_ for continued support. Love you all!_

_Wow this was a long author's note…long note for a long chapter, I guess?_

_Chapter title is from "Lean On Me" by Bill Withers._

_Reviewreviewreview!_


	8. Live Your Life Until Love Is Found

**Triple Threat  
****7. Live Your Life Until Love is Found, 'Cause Love's Gonna Get You Down**

Gill felt well enough to come back to school on Friday. Granted, his voice was still somewhat raspy and he was prone to start coughing in the middle of speaking, but Gill knew that the worst of the sickness had passed – the hacking cough was merely his asthma jumping into the fray to make things worse, and would linger long past the time of full recovery. All he had to do was try not to exert himself too much, and to drink plenty of fluids during the day, and he should be perfectly fine. Anyway, three days out of school was _plenty_. He was behind enough as it was, and he didn't want Beth to keep having to bring him his homework.

Friday was also the day of the Calculus test. Mr. Pascal, grading papers at his desk, looked up just in time to catch Gill coming through the door. "Well," he said, raising his eyebrows. "You managed to get well just in time for the test. That's almost _suspiciously_ good timing."

"I do my best," Gill replied blandly. This was his usual response to most of Mr. Pascal's sarcastic jibes. For a schoolteacher – and such a _young_ one at that (Mr. Pascal had only recently turned twenty-seven) – the man was remarkably cynical, and students who got offended at his comments only made themselves even bigger targets for his scornful jabs.

"Are you sure you're ready?"

"Yes."

"Good. Because I wasn't going to let you postpone the test date if you showed up today. There's no reason you can't study while you're sick, unless your head explodes. And your skull," here he made a show of peering closely, from several angles, at Gill's head, "seems to be relatively intact."

"Thanks," Gill replied, in a tone that could have meant anything, and went to take his seat beside Beth. The girl looked distracted and distant – the same way that she'd been that morning, when it had taken her five tries to get into the student parking lot (she kept missing the entrance because she was so lost in trying to memorize antiderivatives, if the muttering under her breath was any indication). It was a miracle that they hadn't been late.

Now, she had her textbook open and seemed to be frantically cramming, eyes flicking between the pages and the copious notes she had taken both during class and during her studying. "You know that won't help," Gill commented, sitting down. "If you don't understand it by now, you're not going to suddenly learn it five minutes before the test."

"I _understand_ everything," Beth muttered, not even looking up to answer him, "but I'm still freaking out. Cramming kind of helps me calm down."

Gill doubted that; Beth looked anything _but_ calm at the moment. Her long hair was falling out of the sloppy bun she'd twisted it into, her eyes were wide and panicky, and…she appeared to have her shirt on backwards. Gill briefly contemplated informing her about the last fact – he hadn't noticed earlier that morning, since she had been wearing a sweatshirt – but he had a feeling that it would only make the girl more nervous than she already was.

He reached across the aisle and put one hand flat on Beth's textbook, effectively stopping her frenzied page-flipping. "Stop," he said with emphasis, and Beth actually stopped freaking out for a moment to look at him. "You're only making yourself more nervous. Panicking won't get you a higher grade on the test, so just _calm down._ You'll do fine."

"No, I won't!" Beth whisper-screamed, almost on the edge of hysteria by this point. "I don't know anything. I can't remember any of this, any of the equations. _Gill_," and here he got the distinct impression that Beth would have reached out to shake him by the shoulders, had she been close enough, "_I'm going to fail._"

He fought the almost overwhelming urge to roll his eyes. "No, you won't. Almost no one can remember calculus formulas on cue – it's a useless thing to do anyway. If you know how to _apply_ the formulas, then once you see the actual problems in front of you, you'll remember everything you need to solve it. Anyway, you managed to pull through so far, so you obviously know enough to at least pass."

"_Barely_."

"_Beth._"

"Okay, okay." She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. When she exhaled and opened them again, she looked marginally more calm. _Marginally._ "I won't fail," she said, mostly to herself. "I just have to think positively. Yeah. I'll do fine."

At that moment, the bell rang, and Mr. Pascal began passing out tests. "You know the drill," he said, sounding a little bored. "First half with calculator, second half without. You can choose to drop one question on one section by putting a slash through the question number. You have the entire period to finish, but you may not stay after class, so if I were you, I'd keep an eye on the clock. I made the test _extra_ hard this time, so my guess is that you will most likely need _every possible second_ to finish."

This last part was said in his usual sarcastic tone, so no one could tell whether Mr. Pascal was joking or being serious. Either way, there were several worried glances exchanged among the students. Beside Gill, Beth let out a quiet squeal and nearly dropped her textbook as she was moving it off her desk. "God, oh, _God_," she whimpered, dragging at her face with her fingertips. "_I am so dead._"

"Calm down."

"Okay, okay," Beth said, but Gill could tell that she hadn't really heard him. "Oh, _God_."

Gill sighed and accepted his test from Mr. Pascal. "Good luck," he muttered to Beth, just loud enough for her to hear. Unfortunately, Mr. Pascal heard him too.

"No talking, Mr. Hamilton," he said. "Though I have to agree with you. Ms. O'Keefe could certainly use a bit of luck, judging from her previous test scores."

_Oh, shut up,_ Gill thought, watching Beth's cheeks color in embarrassment. The class tittered. Gill frowned at Mr. Pascal's back as the teacher continued down the rows, passing out tests.

"I'm so dead," Beth squeaked again. Gill groaned quietly.

"Don't pay any attention to him. You know he says things like that to everyone."

"But I – "

"You'll. Do. Fine. Pascal doesn't know anything about you. You're smarter than he gives you credit for, so _ignore him_ and just focus on doing well on the test."

There must have been something in his voice that was reassuring, because Beth managed to offer Gill a shaky smile. "Thanks, Gill. I – "

"Mr. Hamilton, Ms. O'Keefe." Mr. Pascal's sharp voice interrupted. "If you would kindly save your flirting for after class, the rest of us would really appreciate it."

More giggling. Gill didn't blush, but Beth did, and _brilliantly_. Gill was actually worried that her rising blood pressure was going to make her head explode.

"Sorry," Beth whispered, so quietly that even Gill almost missed it. She accepted her test meekly and immediately bent to read the first question. Gill rolled his eyes, ignoring the amused glances that were being shot his way, and followed suit.

The rest of the period passed in silence.

* * *

"So, this is a nice surprise," Chase said, raising his eyebrows. "It's not often I'm graced with your presence during lunch. What's the occasion?"

He had emerged from Food and Nutrition to find Beth waiting for him – a rarity, since she usually had some meeting or another to attend. They were currently in the school cafeteria, sitting at one of the long lunch tables. Well, Beth was sitting. Chase was still standing, alternating between speaking with her and peering around the room as though looking for someone.

"No prom committee today," Beth said, looking happy. "It's just four days a week, plus a couple of possible weekend meetings. So that means we can start eating lunch together on Fridays!"

"What makes you think I want to do that?"

"Oh, I dunno. Is it my scintillating wit, my sparkling personality, or my amazing good looks?" She batted her eyelashes and flipped her hair over her shoulder for emphasis.

"Well, _somebody's_ in a good mood today. Did you just use the word 'scintillating' in an actual conversation?"

"Jealous of my extensive vocabulary, are we? Amazed?"

"Jealous, no. Amazed, yes, but only by the fact that you're even nerdier than I gave you credit for."

"Thanks, I try my best," Beth said brightly. "So, what'd you make in class today?" she asked, indicating the Tupperware in Chase's hands. He had claimed that the orphanage's sack lunches were "absolutely awful" and the lunches served at the school were "a travesty" (Beth didn't see how he could make fun of her for saying "scintillating" when he used words like "travesty"; pot calling the kettle black, she supposed), so he had taken to saving his share of the food he cooked during fourth period and eating it during lunch.

"Vegetarian lasagna," he said distractedly, looking around the room again.

"Sounds good," Beth commented, unpacking her own sandwich. "Who are you waiting for?"

"Toby," he replied. "We're bio lab partners, and we were supposed to go over the assignment at lunch." Chase scowled a little, crossing his arms. "Apparently he _forgot_."

"Doubt it," Beth said, and took a bite of her sandwich. "Maybe something just came up and he'll get here later."

Chase rolled his eyes. "I _knew_ you were going to stick up for him."

"What? Why?"

"Because you _loooooove_ him," Chase said in a singsong voice. Beth frowned at him, a slight flush warming her cheeks.

"That was _elementary school_, Chase. I've gotten over it."

"Sure, sure," Chase replied, flapping a hand dismissively at her. "But you know what they say: you never really get over your first love." And here, he adopted a most ridiculous expression that, Beth supposed, was supposed to resemble a heartbroken lover, but that really just looked more like someone with a bad case of indigestion. Her laugh came out as a rather undignified snort.

"Who never got over their first love?" a voice asked. Renee Hasselbach, Toby's girlfriend and one of Beth's best female friends, looked at both of them with wide, curious eyes as she took a seat across from Beth.

"Chase," Beth said, at the same time that Chase said, "Beth." The two of them glared at each other. Renee grinned.

"Chase had a first love?"

"I know, I can't believe it either," Beth muttered.

"Hey, just because I didn't tell the world about it..."

"I did _not_ tell the world!"

"Was I talking about you? Geez, Beth, you are _so_ self-centered."

"Who _was_ Chase's first love?" Renee wondered. Beth smiled and leaned in close.

"It was – "

"Beth, _shut up_," Chase said loudly. "Before I shove that sandwich into your mouth and make you choke. Anyway, what about _you_? Does Renee know about _your_ first love?" He smirked wickedly when Beth scowled at him. Even though Renee and Beth had been friends in elementary school, Beth had never told the other girl about her one-time crush. And now that Toby was Renee's boyfriend…well, let's just say that that particular confession would have been more than a little bit awkward.

Renee looked serene. "Actually, I was kind of under the impression that you were each other's first loves," she said innocently.

There was a moment of silence, during which both Chase and Beth just stared at Renee. Then:

"Psh."

"No way."

"As if."

"Pigs would fly."

"Hell would reopen as an ice-skating rink."

"Maya's cooking would actually be edible for once."

"Oh, _burn_. And you're the one who told me to be nice to her."

"I'm just being honest. Her cooking _did_ almost give me food poisoning that one time."

Renee looked at the two of them. "Listening to the two of you talk is almost as good as watching a pro tennis match," she commented. "Or a bickering soap opera couple."

"Thank you," Chase said drily. "We try."

Toby Young chose that moment to finally appear, sneaking up behind Renee and grabbing her shoulders. Unsurprised, the girl merely sighed. "Toby, I told you to stop doing that. You're terrible at it."

Toby slid onto the seat next to his girlfriend, not letting go of her shoulders as he did so. "How do you know when I'm coming?" he questioned. "The cafeteria's so loud, and I was being really quiet."

"I was using my Spidey-sense. Or, in this case, I guess it's my Toby-sense."

Toby laughed and pulled Renee in for a kiss that started off chaste, but quickly began to build into something less so. The two other members of their group looked at each other. Beth's expression was one of resigned amusement; Chase looked distinctly less charitable.

"He finally shows up and the first thing he does is attack his girlfriend," he muttered, taking a seat next to Beth. "No 'hey, sorry I'm late' or anything." He rolled his eyes, then raised his voice so that the couple across from them could hear him over the cafeteria's noise. "Hey, do you mind saving that for later? Some people are trying to eat here."

Renee extricated herself from Toby's grip and offered their companions a somewhat apologetic look. "Sorry," she coughed. "Got…uh, carried away, there."

"I'll say," Chase said, but so quietly that only Beth heard him. Toby, completely unfazed by the whole incident, straightened his now-rumpled T-shirt and grinned at Chase and Beth.

"Hey, Beth, Chase. Sorry I'm late – I had to go talk to Ms. Saunders about the final project."

The mention of Ms. Saunders evidently reminded Chase about the upcoming project with Gill, because his scowl deepened. "Who's your partner?"

"Luke Kimura." And at this declaration, everyone – even easygoing Toby – winced a little.

"You have _the_ worst luck," Renee muttered.

"Luke's okay," Beth said, trying to be reasonable. "He's nice, just…loud…"

"Really, _really_ loud," Chase said flatly. "You know, I'm beginning to think my partner won't be so bad after all."

"Who's your partner?"

"Gill Hamilton."

Toby groaned. "_Please_ switch with me."

"No, thanks. I couldn't possibly deprive you of the opportunity to work with 'the Extremester,'" Chase said, referencing Luke's self-declared nickname.

"It could be worse," Beth ventured. Everyone turned to look at her with incredulous expressions.

"_How_?" Chase demanded.

"Luke can actually draw," Beth said. "He wants to work in architecture when he's older, like his dad. Maybe he's not as good at drawing people, but his buildings always look really amazing."

Silence. Beth looked sort of embarrassed. "_What_?"

"I take back what I said about Chase being your first love," Renee said. "I bet it was Luke." She considered this for a moment, then made a face. "Beth, _ew._"

"Chase was your first love?" Toby asked, confused. "When did this happen?"

"_Never_," Beth stressed. "It's completely ludicrous."

"Aw, Beth, you hurt my feelers."

"Feelers?" Toby repeated, now more confused than ever.

"Ignore him," Beth said, clamping a hand over Chase's mouth before he could retort. "Anyway, I never had a crush on Luke or anything. I worked with him on the Rube Goldberg project last year for physics – we built a model of a house where a person could get from the attic to the basement without ever touching the floor. It was pretty amazing," she continued, though her tone was matter-of-fact rather than boastful. "Mr. Richardson said that we got one of the highest grades in the class. Anyway, Luke designed and built a lot of it, and I saw the sketches for his design. They were really, really good. _Ew, Chase!_" She whipped her hand away from Chase's mouth and scrubbed it frantically on her jeans.

"What happened?" Toby and Renee asked, almost at the same time.

"He _licked_ my hand!" Beth cried. "Chase, that is _disgusting_."

Chase made a face. "I'll say. Where have you been sticking your hand, anyway? Tastes like rubbing alcohol."

"It's called _hand sanitizer_. And how do you know what rubbing alcohol tastes like anyway?"

"You don't need to have actually tasted it to _know_ how it tastes."

Renee stared at them, then looked at Toby. "This is kind of cute, and yet revolting at the same time," she said.

Toby was still sort of confused. "Wait…so, was it Luke or Chase that was Beth's first love?"

"Can we _please_ get off this 'first loves' business?"

Chase looked at Toby, a devious smirk spreading over his face. "_I_ know who it was," he said. "It was – ow!"

Beth, slightly red in the face, had thumped him on the back of the head. "Chase, _shut up_!" she hissed. "I didn't tell yours, so don't tell mine!"

"You were _going_ to."

"I was _not_!"

"Yeah, you were."

"Was not!"

"Okay, five-year-olds," Renee cut in, waving her hands. "This has gone past the realm of amusing and into the universe of utterly ridiculous. It's time to stop."

Beth and Chase scowled at each other, then turned to their respective lunches. Renee eyed them both speculatively. "You know, Beth," she said conversationally, "you're being a lot louder than usual today. What happened?"

"The Calculus test, I'll bet," Chase muttered into his lasagna. "She failed and is trying to forget about it." He anticipated Beth's reaction and dodged the fist headed for his shoulder.

"I did not _fail_," Beth sniffed. "I've just been…kind of stressed out lately. I'm working off some of the excess energy so I can relax."

"I bet I know _why_ you've been stressed," Chase said. "_This_ is why you don't appoint yourself as the Führer's personal secretary. Bad things happen." ("The Führer?" Toby asked Renee. "We're talking about Hitler now?)

"Like I said before, I was doing it as a favor to a friend. _Gill_," she said his name pointedly, "has nothing to do with my stress."

"_Right_."

Beth frowned. "At this moment, I'd say he's one of the only people in my life who _isn't_ making me stress out constantly." ("What does the student body president have to do with Hitler?" "Toby…")

"Well, he's _going_ to start stressing you out," Chase retorted. "You're having him over for dinner on Saturday. Which is tomorrow. So you'd better start planning and _stressing_ right now."

"Wait," Renee interrupted, confused after trying to listen to Toby and to Beth and Chase at the same time. "You're having _who_ over for dinner?"

"She's having the Führer over for dinner," Chase said flatly.

"You're having Hitler over for dinner?" Toby questioned, bewildered. Everyone ignored him.

"We're next door neighbors," Beth explained tiredly. "And he helped me out with Calc before he got sick, so I thought this would be a good way to repay him and have his dad meet my parents at the same time."

"But…why would his dad need to meet your parents? You're not _dating_ or anything…are you?" ("Beth's dating Hitler?")

"_No_," Beth sighed. "We're _neighbors_. They've never met. It's just a friendly dinner. Will everyone stop freaking out about it and calm down?"

"I'm calm," Renee said. "I think _Chase_ is the one who isn't."

"What are you talking about? I'm perfectly calm. See? Look at my face. I'm calm."

"Why does this bother you so much?" Beth huffed. "You've been acting all weird ever since I told you about it. It's just _dinner_. With _family_."

"_I get it._"

"Well, if you get it, then stop acting weird!"

"I am _not_ acting weird!"

"You are too!"

"Okay, stop." Renee held up a hand. "We are not having the toddler argument again. Just eat your lunch."

The conversation lapsed into a rather sullen silence. Renee kept looking between Beth and Chase with a thoughtful expression on her face, while the other two avoided each other's gazes for fear of sparking another argument.

"Oh!" Toby said. One could practically _hear_ the lightbulb going off over his head. "_Gill_ is the Führer. I see." A pause. "Wait, what does that have to do with Hitler?"

* * *

_A/N: I apologize…this chapter was meant to be Gill-centric, but then Chase ended up stealing the show. Again. I PROMISE, though, next chapter will be ALL Gill, because FINALLY, we will be at the dinner chapter, and things will be downhill from there. And Chase will not show up at all, if I can help it. That boy must be punished…PUNISHED, I say. Muahahaha…_

_So I know nothing really happened…I was trying to write a memory sequence at the end of this chapter, about the start of Renee and Beth's friendship and Beth's little-girl crush on Toby (from Chase's point of view), but it just wasn't coming together, no matter how much I tried to force it. So I decided to just drop it from the chapter altogether. I might bring it into the story again later, if I can be arsed to write it._

_On a side note: I love Toby and Renee! I think they're one of the cutest couples in Harvest Moon, and I like giving Toby a personality that DOESN'T revolve around fishing. And Renee looks alarmingly like the main character, oddly enough. Relation, maybe? XD_

_Yes, Luke gets a mention in the chapter. I think he's hilarious, as stereotypical as he is, but I'm attempting to give him a little more depth. "Carpenter" seemed a little too archaic for the time period this story takes place in, so I made him an aspiring architect instead. The partnership of him and Toby seems like an amusing one, and might make more appearances later._

_Mr. Pascal is actually based on my Calculus BC teacher, back in high school. I didn't like him much, but I at least had to appreciate his sense of sarcasm. And yes, I freak out the same way Beth does before a test. But so do all of my friends._

_Chase's first love is a big secret. And no, it's not Beth. Maybe, if you all leave many reviews, I'll reveal the truth later on. :P_

_Many, many thanks to _**Winter Oak, Ravenclaw53, IcePanther124**_ (the "favor" Chase will want is also a secret ;))_**, sarahelizabeth1993, Fox**_ (I'm really glad you like the chapter titles! I was scared they'd come off as kind of stupid…)_**, HamiGirl, That Dorky Chick**_ (oh Gill…sometimes geniuses are the stupidest of us all…and yeah, I totally know which commercial you're talking about .)_**,**_ and_** Moffy**_ for reviewing. As usual, you guys are the best._

_Title is from "Lollipop" by the ever-wonderful Mika. I suppose it mostly refers to Chase…in a non-romantic sense at the moment? I'm not going to go into it, it'll only make my head hurt._

_A note: I will be moving into my dorm next week, so don't expect too frequent updates…I will try to get another chapter out before I leave, though!_


	9. Don't Make Frowns, You Silly Clown

**Triple Threat  
****8. Don't Make Frowns, You Silly Clown**

The bell rang at six fifty-eight. "Beth!" a male voice called from the living room. "Get the door!"

"I'm still changing!" came the reply from upstairs. "You're closer, you get it!"

"They're _your _guests."

"Which is why I need to be presentable when I greet them, and not half-naked. Be a good, _responsible_ big brother for once, would you, Jon?"

Jonathan O'Keefe mumbled a few uncharitable things at his sister's expense as he hauled his butt off the couch and slouched towards the door, making a half-hearted attempt to straighten his rumpled sweater as he went. A quick run of his fingers through his hair to tame any cowlicks, a hasty swipe around the mouth area to eliminate any unexpected crustiness (hm, he'd kind of forgotten to shave, would the stubble be making an appearance tonight?)…he opened the door.

"Hey, what's up?" he greeted the pair that stood on his doorstep. "You must be the Hamiltons."

"That we are," the older one replied jovially, and held out a hand for him to shake. "And you are…?"

"Jon. Beth's older brother." Jon shook Mr. Hamilton's hand, casting a curious glance at the boy behind him. Hamilton caught the look; he reached back and hauled the teen forward by the arm, almost making his son drop the box he held in his hands.

"_Father_," he said through gritted teeth, carefully adjusting his grip on the box. Hamilton, completely unaffected by his son's tone, nudged the boy forward.

"This is my son, Gill," he said proudly. Jon raised his eyebrows.

"So _you're_ Gill," he commented, but didn't have a chance to get any further. His sister chose that moment to make her appearance.

"When you say it like that, you make it sound like I've been talking about him behind his back," she admonished Jon, then smiled at their guests. "Hi, Gill, Mr. Hamilton. Please, come in. Mom!" The last part was shouted towards the back of the house. "They're here!"

There was a small commotion in the kitchen, and then a woman came hurrying down the hallway, wiping her hands on a towel. "Oh, my, I'm sorry," she said, slightly out of breath. "My hands were full with the meatballs when you rang the doorbell. Welcome!"

Jon snickered quietly behind Beth. "Mom said _balls_," he whispered none-too-subtly to her, and she rolled her eyes, elbowing him in the side.

"What's in the box?" she asked Gill as their parents shook hands and got to know each other.

"A cake," he replied. "Is there somewhere I could set it down…?"

"Um, yeah. Does it need to be refrigerated or anything?"

"That might be best."

"Come with me, then." He followed Beth down the hallway; Jon, finding himself with no one to talk to, tagged along as well. Beth shot her brother a look as they entered the kitchen. "No eating," she warned him, as Jon made himself comfortable right next to a steaming bowl of pasta. "The university's on their winter break right now, and ever since Jon got back he's been stuffing his face with Mom's cooking every chance he gets," she informed Gill, taking the box from him and slipping it into the fridge. "Apparently the food there _sucks_, and Jon never actually learned how to cook."

"I did too," Jon protested.

"Top Ramen and microwave dinners don't count," Beth shot back. She rolled her eyes at Gill. "The first year he started at the university, he put on about ten pounds, and _all_ of it was fat."

"Freshman fifteen?" Gill asked wryly.

"Exactly. I'm telling you, university food is terrible. And now that he's reached the legal drinking age…well. I don't know if we'll be able to fit him through the door next Christmas."

"I'm right here, you know," Jon said irritably. Beth turned to him, grinning.

"Oh, if you put on enough weight, maybe you can get a part-time job as one of those mall Santas," she teased.

"_Oi_!" Jon protested, sounding affronted. "I am _not_ fat! I work out!"

"Jon, five sit-ups a month does not count as a workout."

Jon scowled at his sister. "Well, at least I'm not a midget."

"I am _not_ a midget!"

"Yeah, right. What are you now, five feet?"

"Five foot _three_!" Beth cried out in exasperation. "And a half!"

"Right," said five-feet-eleven-inches Jon, smirking triumphantly. "That proves it. You're definitely a midget."

"Argh!" Beth threw her hands in the air, groaning through her teeth. "Come on, Gill. Let's go find an idiot-free space to occupy until dinner's ready."

Unsure of how to respond to this, Gill followed Beth out of the kitchen, leaving Jon behind to snicker quietly to himself. "Sorry about that," Beth said apologetically, as they slipped through the back door and out onto the porch. "We've been having the same argument for years, and it never gets old, somehow." She plopped down on one of the lawn chairs and indicated another next to her. "Go on, sit down."

Gill obliged. "Where's your father?" he asked.

"Dad sometimes works on Saturdays," she explained, curling her legs underneath her bottom and hugging herself against the slight chill in the air. "He was supposed to be home by now, but I think he might've gotten stuck in traffic or something. Either way, if he's not back by seven-thirty, Mom will start dinner without him and he can catch up later." Her smile revealed a white flash of teeth in the semi-darkness. "So, what've you been up to?"

"Volunteer work with the National Honors Society," Gill said. "At the Children's Fair."

"Ooh, me too, actually. What time were you there?"

"From around two 'til four."

"Hm, that's weird. I was there at three, and I didn't see you at all. What booth were you working?"

"Horn Ranch Ice Creamery," Gill muttered. Beth winced sympathetically.

"_Ouch_. I did that last year with Renee, since her parents own the store and everything. It was one of the worst experiences I've ever had. Why'd you sign up for it?"

"All of the other booths were full. It was the only spot left."

"So…what happened?" Beth held up a hand, shaking her head. "Wait, on second thought, don't tell me. I just remembered what happened last year." She shuddered theatrically. "Just…no. Forget it. Kids are cute and everything, but let them loose around ice cream and they turn into little devil-creatures. Thank _God_ I worked in face-painting this year instead."

"I'm sure that must've been relaxing," Gill commented. Beth grinned at him.

"I made sure to sign up _super_ early just so I could get that spot. You should try it next year – you're more artistic than I am, at least. I painted a flower on one girl's cheek and she couldn't tell what it was." She put a finger to her chin musingly. "I can paint black eyes pretty well, though. They're easy. Though it's probably not such a good idea to tell overprotective parents that you can give all of their kids amazing black eyes."

Gill surprised himself by laughing out loud at this. "I suppose not," he agreed, smiling. "You may lose your reputation as one of the few child-friendly teenagers in Castanet if you do."

Beth made a face. "Not sure if I want that reputation, if it means I'm stuck babysitting on Friday nights."

"Well, if you weren't babysitting, what would you be doing on Friday nights?"

"I'd be…um…" She saw his amused expression and groaned a little. "Oh, _fine_. I'd probably be at home, studying or planning for the next prom committee meeting. I admit it! I have no life."

"At least you know your strong points," Gill said in a flat, unreadable tone. Beth peered at him, squinting suspiciously.

"Hey…you're making fun of me."

"No."

"You are too!" She reached over and shoved his shoulder, but she was smiling. "Don't laugh at me, Gill Hamilton!" she admonished him, trying to be serious and failing. "It's not as if you're any better than I am!"

"Hm."

"Don't even try to deny it!"

"I wasn't going to. In fact, I was going to agree with you."

Beth raised her eyebrows. "Really? That's kind of sad."

"I am well aware of that."

The girl sighed, leaning back in the chair. "Well, guess we're both lame excuses for teenagers then, no offense."

"None taken."

"Neither of us party, date, or do drugs. We just sit at home, study, and…_babysit_." She groaned. "Maybe if I don't spend my youth being a degenerate teenage rebel, I'll regret it when I'm thirty."

"If you _do_ spend your youth being a degenerate teenage rebel, you might not live to _be_ thirty," Gill pointed out wryly. At that moment, the back door slid open and Beth's mother poked her head out.

"Oh, that's where you two went," she said, smiling down at the two teens. "Beth, Dad's home, so we're going to start dinner. Come inside and help set up, would you?"

"Sure." Beth slid off of the chair and stood, dusting off her pants. She looked pensively after her mother's retreating back for a moment, then turned back to glance quizzically at Gill. "Think our parents were ever rebels?"

Gill thought of his absentminded, sometimes-lazy father. "I can't imagine it," he replied honestly.

Beth grinned at him. "Neither can I," she said, and offered him a hand to pull him to his feet.

* * *

_This is such an uncomfortable situation_.

There was a fan on overhead and a window was cracked open to let in some of the cool night air, but Gill still felt like the room was sweltering. His skin prickled; the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, even though he tried to remain calm. Across the table from him, Beth looked like she was torn between deep amusement and complete exasperation. Mrs. O'Keefe, Jon, and Hamilton, it seemed, hadn't picked up on the situation at all.

Mr. O'Keefe kept _looking_ at him. Though _looking_ wasn't a strong enough word for what the man was doing. _Staring_, maybe, or even _glaring_. Yes, that was it. Mr. O'Keefe was _glaring_ at Gill, staring at his head as though just by looking at it hard enough, he could make the boy's head explode. Like something out of some freaky horror movie.

Gill, on the other hand, was pointedly not making eye contact. He had a vague feeling that Mr. O'Keefe was – for lack of a better term – _sizing him up_, scrutinizing him with an evaluating gaze. _What is going on?_ kept running through his mind, like a ticker tape stuck on repeat.

"So, Gill," Mrs. O'Keefe's voice, a soft alto remarkably similar to her daughter's, floated past the slightly panicked buzz in his ears. "Beth tells me that you're on the Student Council with her?"

"Yes," he replied, glad for the distraction. "I am."

"He's student body president," Beth piped up helpfully, as though Gill couldn't say this for himself. For some reason, she was looking at her father's end of the table when she said this, but Mrs. O'Keefe didn't seem to notice.

"That's quite an achievement," she commented. "And you're only a junior! Isn't the student body president usually a senior?"

"Sometimes," Gill said, not wanting to seem immodest – especially since Mr. O'Keefe's gaze was still upon him. "It's not that rare for a junior to become student body president, though."

"Our vice president's a sophomore," Beth offered, thankfully deflecting some attention away from Gill. "You remember Luna Hubbard, don't you, Mom? Candace's younger sister?"

"Ooh, yes," Mrs. O'Keefe said, smiling. "If I recall, Jon actually helped babysit Luna a few times when Candace and her grandmother were away. Don't you remember, Jon?"

Jon groaned into his spaghetti. "Don't remind me," he grumbled darkly. Beth grinned.

"Jon's mad because Luna was mean to him when they were younger."

"No ten-year-old had the right to be that articulate," Jon muttered, spearing a meatball with far more force than was strictly necessary. "She told me that my outfit was 'atrocious,' and then she said," he cleared his throat and adopted a high-pitched voice, "'I don't see why the cavemen gave up wearing leopard pelts if all they were going to do in the future was don even tighter, more hideous animal skins. That is not what I would consider to be 'progress.'"

"Jon went through this leather pants phase when he was sixteen," Beth informed Gill. "Coincidentally, he stopped wearing them after that babysitting incident with Luna. I think she shattered his ego."

"She has a knack for doing that," Gill said drily, thinking of his vice president's blunt and opinionated nature.

"Luna's on the prom committee with me this year," Beth said to her mother, twirling a mass of spaghetti around her fork. She looked sidelong at Gill, her mouth quirking slightly. "I put her in charge of the group doing decorations."

"Good choice." Despite any personal issues he might have had with Luna, Gill had to admit that the girl _did_ have good taste. At least prom wouldn't end up as some sort of overdecorated, frou-frou nightmare like it had two years ago (Kathy and Candace _still_ couldn't talk about it without shuddering), even if Luna _did_ manage to antagonize nearly all of her subordinates.

"I thought so," Beth said airily. Gill started to smile at her tone, but quickly schooled his features into a blank expression as he felt the pressure of Mr. O'Keefe's gaze upon him again. What _was_ it with the man and glaring at him, anyway?

"Will you be going to prom this year, Gill?" Mrs. O'Keefe asked. Beside Gill, Hamilton perked up a little – Gill had managed to evade all of his probing questions concerning prom (and a potential date) so far.

"Maybe. I haven't decided yet," Gill said, choosing a noncommittal reply.

"Oh, but you _should_," Mrs. O'Keefe said. Her left cheek dimpled when she smiled at him, the same way Beth's did. "Maybe then you could convince Beth to go as well."

"Mom," Beth groaned, "I already told you that I'm going. I _have_ to. Somebody has to make sure things go smoothly while everyone else is off dancing the night away." She punctuated the last part of this proclamation with a wave of her fork, nearly stabbing Jon in the ear. "I'll go next year."

"Just promise me that you won't go in jeans," Mrs. O'Keefe said worriedly.

"Of course not." Beth paused, then grinned in a manner that could only be described as _devious_. "I'll wear Jon's leather pants."

Her brother choked on his water. "They're too big for you," he spluttered.

"I doubt it – they were so tight on you that they'd probably be just right on me." Her brow furrowed. "Don't pants that tight do some kind of permanent damage?"

"_You_ can't wear leather pants!"

"Why not?"

"Because you're a _girl_. It's completely inappropriate!"

"How is it inappropriate?" Mrs. O'Keefe asked innocently. Beth smirked at her brother.

"Yeah, Jon, tell us. How's it inappropriate?"

Gill had to take a quick gulp of water to keep himself from smiling. The look on Jon's face – caught somewhere between indignation and horror – was absolutely _priceless_.

"W-Well, you're a _girl_. When girls wear leather, it kind of tends to…highlight…certain _areas_…" He gestured vaguely, face reddening. "Look, forget it! I'm not talking about my little sister like this, it's gross!"

"It's also not appropriate for the dinner table," Mrs. O'Keefe, who had finally understood the meaning behind Jon's statement, said primly.

"Well, _you're_ the one who asked!"

Beth's eyes danced with lively amusement. "Maybe I _will_ wear leather to prom," she said in mock-thoughtful tones. "Like a…corset. A leather corset. And stiletto boots. _That'll_ turn heads."

More than one person choked on their own spit at this statement; Jon started laughing. Gill had to concentrate very hard not to turn red. _Don't picture it,_ he told himself frantically, knowing that Mr. O'Keefe was glaring at him again. _Don't picture it, don't picture it, don't think about how appealing that image is…wait, what? Dammit!_

"Beth!" Mrs. O'Keefe scolded her daughter. "Don't say things like that!"

"Oh, my God," Jon choked out through his laughter. "You'd look like some sort of midget dominatrix!"

"Jon!"

"Hey, I am not a midget," Beth said indignantly. Jon waved his hands, chortling uncontrollably.

"Forget what I said about the leather pants being inappropriate. _This_ is way worse. You, showing up to prom, dressed like a dominatrix…ooh, you should get your date to dress up as your slave! And get a whip to crack every five minutes!" He fell back in his chair, cackling like a maniac.

"_Jon!_" Poor Mrs. O'Keefe. She turned to Gill and Hamilton with a pained expression on her face. "I am _so_ sorry," she said sincerely. "Sometimes Beth and Jon find the most inappropriate things to talk about…"

"Oh, no, it's alright." Hamilton looked like he was rather enjoying the current situation, despite the awkward topic of discussion. "In the end, the laughter is always worth it."

* * *

_A/N: So this chapter was originally much longer, but I decided to cut it – partially because I thought it was too long, and partially because I was dissatisfied with the second half and deleted the whole thing. :/ Sorry for the long wait, you guys! I've been in college for about a month now, and the move and stuff was so hectic that this fic got shoved into the background of things…Just a warning: I will not be updating as frequently as before, but I'll still be plugging away at the thing whenever I can find the time (which isn't often, given the courseload I'm taking this year .)._

_Mr. O'Keefe's behavior is explained next chapter, and more plot devices will be thrown into the mix! Not much to say right now…it's actually almost four in the morning, and I just decided to post this. XD I'm not a very good student..._

_Thanks to everyone for their wonderful reviews (I'm going to stop listing them individually, since it's a bit tedious, but just know that I read and cherish every single message like the attention whore that I am ;)), and thanks for staying with me! I know I'm a really frustrating updater – I'll write furiously for the first few chapters, then get distracted/busy/bored and not update for months at a time. But I'm working on that! Life just gets in the way sometimes…_

_Title is from "Folding Chair" by Regina Spektor – wonderful little song, just in case you were wondering._

_Review and stay tuned for the next chapter!_


	10. What Is This Feeling, So Sudden and New?

**Triple Threat**

**9. What Is This Feeling, So Sudden and New?**

"So how was the dinner?"

"Hm?" Beth looked up from her cell phone, eyes unfocused and expression slightly dazed. "What?"

Chase rolled his eyes. "Dinner with the Führer?" he said, stabbing his spoon at her and nearly flicking ice cream into her eye. "Last night? Or did you forget?"

"It was fine," Beth murmured absently, her gaze straying back to her cell phone again. Her sundae – triple chocolate fudge with extra cherries – went untouched, melting sadly into a sort of chocolate landslide. The cherries looked rather in danger of being suffocated. Chase rescued one and popped it into his mouth.

"Distracted, much? Want me to go away?"

"Uh, no…sorry." Beth flipped her cell phone shut and pocketed it, looking slightly sheepish. "Luna keeps texting me about prom planning, and she starts spamming my inbox if I don't text her back within ten minutes. I promise, I'm not trying to ignore you."

"Uh-huh."

"Are you _pouting_ at me?"

"Not at all. My lower lip just happened to slip out. It'll never happen again."

"Right…" Finally picking up her spoon, Beth took a bite of her half-melted ice cream.

"So dinner was just 'fine'?" Chase prodded. Beth sighed.

"Like I said, _yes_, it was fine. Other than the fact that my dad kept _glaring_ at Gill all night…" She groaned and ran her fingers through her hair. "So much ridiculousness, man," she grumbled. "Every time I make a friend of the opposite gender, my dad scares them off."

"Because all men are horny bastards secretly itching to claim his innocent daughter's virginity," Chase deadpanned. Beth wrinkled her nose in distaste and dropped her spoon into her bowl.

"Don't say it like that. 'Itching' sounds so gross."

"But I'm right, aren't I?" Chase punctuated this question with a stab of his spoon in Beth's general direction. The girl gently tilted the spoon back down towards Chase's plate, a wary look stealing over her face.

"Yes, yes, you're right. Now stop pointing that thing at me."

"Poor you. At this rate, you'll be a virgin for the rest of your life. Or at least, for the rest of your dad's life."

"It's not my fault my dad's a paranoid freak around boys!" Beth threw her hands into the air, looking pained. "I mean, he never acted like this when Jon brought his girlfriends home to dinner – "

Chase raised an eyebrow. "Not even with 'Raven'?" he questioned drily, fingers coming up for very pointed air-quotes. Beth's brow wrinkled in confusion.

"Who?"

"You know, that weird, witchy Goth chick that your brother dated during his junior year? I stepped on her boots by accident once and she said she was going to turn me into a newt." He rolled his eyes. "What a crock. It's been years, and I haven't seen even one speck of newtiness."

"Oh! You mean Rachel?"

"_That's_ her name?"

"You didn't _really_ think her name was Raven, did you?"

"Well, I only met her that one time, and no one corrected her when she introduced herself to me as Raven, so you can't really blame me, can you?"

"I guess not…Anyway, Jon and Rachel didn't last long enough for her to meet Mom and Dad. They kind of broke up after one and a half weeks of dating."

"Why's that?"

"Uh…something about them not connecting, I think. I bet Jon was just too lazy to get all dark and depressed about his life, the way Rachel was." Beth waved a hand impatiently. "Either way, Jon's always dated weird girls, and Dad never got worked up about it. But the moment I ask a guy over for dinner – a perfectly _nice_, straight-A student…and with his _father_ no less! – all of a sudden it's like I'm Juliet announcing my intentions to run off with a Montague!"

Chase blinked. "Okay, you lost me at the Shakespeare reference. And calm down, geez. People are starting to stare."

"Okay, okay..." Beth took a deep breath and folded her hands demurely in her lap. It was a strange picture of serenity, considering the way she had been ranting only a moment before. "I'm calm."

"Sure you are."

"Sorry…my dad just pisses me off sometimes." Beth groaned and fidgeted with her hair. "Change of subject! How was your night?"

"Eventful," Chase said in flat tones. "I finished all of my homework ahead of time, watched Miles make and remake his bed five times within three hours, and fell asleep at ten."

"Wow. That sounds…"

"Exciting? Yeah, it was. So exciting that I could hardly stand it."

"Maybe we should do something next weekend," Beth suggested, a faint smile tilting her lips as she took a thoughtful bite of ice cream. "You know, change up your schedule a little bit."

"Oh, I don't know." Chase pretended to look conflicted at this. "I'd have to cancel a date to do that, and I'm not sure how my wall would take it…"

"Hush," Beth giggled. "Anyway, I started thinking after last night that I need to get out more."

"You only _just_ realized that?"

"You're one to talk…"

"Hey, I don't have a car. What I _do_ have is a strict eleven o'clock curfew. Meaning that if I'm not inside the orphanage doors by eleven o'clock PM _sharp_, no one's letting me in."

Beth winced. "Okay, bad example. The point is, I was talking to Gill – "

"Speaking of people who need to get out more…"

"_Chase._"

"What? It's true."

"Yes, but…anyway. We were talking about how we're teenagers, and we should get out while we're young. Be degenerate teenage rebels, you know."

"Degenerate teenage rebels. Did he say that, or did you?"

"Chase…"

"Oh wait, that was a stupid question. Of course you were the one who said it." Chase caught the annoyed look on Beth's face and grinned widely at her. "What, was I interrupting? So sorry. Do go on."

"My _point_," Beth said with heavy emphasis, "is that we should go out more often with our friends. I was thinking that maybe we could catch a movie this Friday."

Chase looked suspiciously at her. "Who's 'we'?"

"You, me, Renee and Toby – "

"Uh-oh. This isn't a double date, is it?"

"_No_. If you'd just let me finish – "

"Because, you know, you're a great friend and all, but I don't know if I'm ready for a serious relationship yet…"

"Chase! Will you just shut up and let me talk?"

"You're taking so long to get to the point!"

"That's because you keep interrupting!"

"Talk faster then!"

"I was thinking of inviting some other people also," Beth said in a rush, still glaring a little. "Maybe some friends from Student Council – "

"By that, you mean the Führer."

"Well, yeah – "

"The kid's not a charity case, Beth. He doesn't need you to create his social life for him."

Beth gave him a dirty look. "What did I say about interrupting again?"

Chase ignored her. "Why are you trying to make friends for the Führer? If he wanted people to hang out with, he'd find them himself. Seems to me that he's perfectly fine with being by himself."

Beth sighed, a heavy gust of exasperation. "Gill's a nice guy once you get to know him, Chase. I think he does want friends, and he does know how to find them. He just needs…you know…a little push."

"Off a cliff."

"_Chase_. Would it really _kill_ you just to hang out with him for one evening?"

"Depends on what context it's in," Chase said, his tone dry. Beth frowned and dropped her spoon into her bowl with a _clang_.

"Fine. You don't have to come if you don't want to."

"Whoa, hey, I never said I didn't want to."

"Well, maybe you _shouldn't_ come if you're going to be so antagonistic," Beth said, her tone rather sharp. "Honestly, what did Gill ever do to you?"

"Nothing." Beth gave him a disbelieving look; Chase shrugged. "What, I'm not allowed to dislike someone based on first impressions?"

"That's called _prejudice_, Chase. We had an assembly on it last year."

"I remember. One of the best naps I ever had." He held up a hand as Beth opened her mouth to argue. "You harping on it isn't going to change my mind. But I can pretend to be civil for one night."

Beth seemed to consider this – particularly Chase's use of the word _pretend_ – then sighed. "I suppose that's as good as it's ever going to get. Alright, we'll plan for next weekend and I'll let you know?"

"Sounds _fabulous_," Chase said with a flamboyant accent, flicking his hair ostentatiously. Several children at a nearby booth stared, and Beth sighed.

"Honestly, I can't take you anywhere."

* * *

"Good afternoon, class." Ms. Saunders clasped her hands together and spoke in her slow, slightly dreamy voice. "Today, we shall commence work on your semester-long project – your portraits. I expect you all remember your partner assignments?"

A murmur of assent rippled throughout the room, some voices sounding more disgruntled than others. Ms. Saunders, oblivious as always to any trace of negativity (or "bad vibes" as she so groovily called them), beamed.

"Wonderful, wonderful. Please, all of you, take the next five minutes to find your partner. Sit down, introduce yourselves, then – without giving each other any further personal details – draw your first portrait of your partner. This does not have to go into your final portfolio, but I often find that the way that first impressions manifest themselves in portraiture is quite fascinating, and I expect that many of you will feel the same way!"

"Crazy old bat," someone mumbled behind Gill.

"Drawing strangers is always very different from drawing friends – and I expect that many of you will be great friends by the end of this project. So please, find your partners, and begin making art!"

The room burst into noise and activity as students got up and began craning their necks about the room, calling to one another and shoving chairs to other tables. Gill stood and glanced around for Chase Moretti; he spotted the distinctive head of messy strawberry-blonde hair near the back of the classroom. The other boy was still half-slouched in his chair, rummaging around in his bag for his sketchpad and pencils, so Gill made his way over. He had to dodge an overenthusiastic Luke Kimura in the process. "Yo!" the blue-haired teen practically bellowed at his partner, who tried to cover his wince with a strained smile. "I'm Luke Kimura, EXTREMESTER and architect in training!"

"No personal details!" Ms. Saunders sang out, almost as loudly as Luke. Chase looked up at Gill and gave a slight grimace.

"It's crazy loud in here," he said. Gill nodded in agreement. Then, not quite knowing what else to do, he held out a hand.

"Hi. I'm Gill."

Chase's eyebrows went up and he gave a slightly wry smile before shaking Gill's hand. "Yeah, I know," he said. "Chase."

"This isn't the first time we've met, is it?"

"Well, we've been in the same art class since freshman year," Chase said, not without a slight trace of sarcasm. "So no, it isn't."

His tone held more irritation than the question had warranted; puzzled, Gill opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted as Ms. Saunders swooped down upon them, bringing with her a powerful whiff of the incense that she liked to burn in her office.

"Now now, no chatting!" she admonished them. "Get to work, boys – some of your classmates have already started! Don't think too much! Begin drawing your first impressions!"

As she floated off to quiet Luke, who looked like he was about to talk his partner's ear off, Gill sat down across from Chase and pulled out his own sketchpad. "Right," the other boy said, rolling his eyes at Ms. Saunders' back. "Less thinking, more sketching." His gaze roved quickly over Gill's face, taking in the details; with his lips pressed together in concentration, Chase began to draw. Taking advantage of his partner's inattention, Gill took his time, brow slightly furrowed as he tried to construct a proper visual impression of Chase in his mind.

He didn't know Chase well at all. Gill knew that he was friends with Beth – he'd encountered them talking in the hallways – but that didn't say much, since Beth was friendly with just about _everyone_. In class, Chase was usually quiet, sitting with his tall frame slightly slouched in his seat and his eyes half-lidded as he took notes. The few times that Gill had heard him speak, Chase had always sounded sarcastic and even somewhat impatient, as if the conversation was moving too slowly for his liking.

His pencil began to move slowly, sketching out the outlines of Chase's face. For a boy, Chase had remarkably soft features – his rounded cheeks, high forehead, and gently pointed chin all served to make him look far younger than he actually was. Gill paused and furrowed his brow. What expression should he give Chase? The other teen wore a frown more often than not, as though thinking with deep dissatisfaction about something. The only times he relaxed the frown were to smirk and make some cynical comment.

_No, that's not quite true_. His memory sparked – he'd had a brief conversation with Chase just the other day, before speaking to Beth. That was the only time he'd seen Chase relax his sardonic, mocking façade for a lighter, more teasing smile. But the expression was totally alien to Gill; he couldn't recall it clearly enough. And anyway…Ms. Saunders had told them to sketch their first impressions. He settled on his original idea – Chase frowning. It was easy, since the other boy was positively scowling as he erased something on his paper. Gill began sketching again.

Art had always been his favorite class. It wasn't a fact that most people were aware of – Gill's businesslike attitude seemed to indicate an interest in something more fixed, like math or science – and Gill wasn't particularly inclined to correct them, but he'd enjoyed art since he was young. He was quite good at it too, with a keen eye for color and proportion.

Drawing also reminded him of his mother – not that he would ever admit that to anyone, not even his father. His mother had been artistic in what seemed like every conceivable way, excelling in dance and music as well. Gill's first art lessons had been under her gentle tutelage, her long and graceful hand holding his small and clumsy one as she showed him the proper proportions for a person's face. _You must be more careful with the nose_, he remembered her saying, her laughter soft and without malice as she looked at Gill's attempted portrait of Hamilton. _You've given your father such a terrifying beak of a nose – shall we correct it, before he sees it and sulks for the entire evening?_

Gill's pencil moved with quick, sure strokes, mapping out the point of Chase's nose. The portrait was beginning to take real shape now, Chase's wide-set and slightly annoyed eyes gazing out over frowning lips. Gill glanced up and was startled to see the real-life version, mirroring that same expression and staring right back at him. He blinked, but Chase didn't break eye contact. His gaze wasn't the observing look of an artist anymore; now it was appraising, almost…_challenging_, though what for, Gill had no idea.

Choosing to ignore the belligerent gaze, Gill looked back down at his drawing and added more shading to Chase's hair. He could tell already that Chase's hair would be the most exasperating part of the portrait project – it stuck off in fifty different directions, full of untamed cowlicks. He looked up again to get a better look at Chase's hair…and found him still staring.

There was something familiar about the stare, but Gill couldn't quite put his finger on it. Avoiding looking directly into Chase's eyes, Gill took in the disheveled shock of hair and made a few adjustments on his paper. He was finding it very difficult to continue ignoring Chase's gaze, and was finally forced to acknowledge it when he could no longer keep pretending to edit the portrait. "What?" he said, trying not to snap.

Chase blinked, and seemed to realize how aggressively he had been staring. "…Nothing," he muttered, and bent his head back to his paper. Gill fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Aah, lovely work as always, Gill," said a voice from just over his shoulder, making him jump. Ms. Saunders leaned forward and nodded approvingly at the portrait of Chase. "It certainly looks just like him – and what an expression! What made you decide to draw him so – " She leaned closer so that Chase wouldn't hear them " – _belligerent_-looking?"

Belligerent? Gill looked down and realized that at some point, he'd drawn Chase to look positively pugilistic. He was surprised; he'd only meant to make him look sarcastic, possibly dissatisfied.

"Um…it was just the expression he had at the time," he said quietly, noticing that Chase was looking at them somewhat suspiciously. Ms. Saunders looked at Chase, then back to Gill.

"Well, I would be interested in hearing what you said to inspire such an expression," she said mildly. "Carry on." She raised her voice to the rest of the class. "Ten minutes, now – and don't let your partners see your portraits! We shall do sharing and critique next class, but for now, keep your impressions a secret!"

Gill winced a little and looked back at the portrait, wondering whether he should edit Chase's expression at all. _It's fine,_ he told himself. _He really was making that expression._

It hit him then, why Chase's stare was so familiar. It was the same look that Mr. O'Keefe had been giving him all through dinner two nights ago.

* * *

_OH MY GOD it has been so long since I updated this. I shan't bore you all with tedious author's notes – but I do want to say thank you thank you THANK YOU to everyone who's still reading, and who kept up hope that one day I would return. I'm sorry, but my life has been absolute hectic hell for the past two years (I am not kidding) and I kind of had to stop playing Harvest Moon, but hopefully I can climb back onto the fanfiction bandwagon and keep going!_

_Right…so Chase is starting to feel the first pangs of jealousy, and is taking them out on poor bewildered Gill. Teehee…the wheels of fate are turning…_

_Title is from "What Is This Feeling" from the always wonderful musical "Wicked."_


	11. Don't Speak Too Soon

**Triple Threat  
****10. Don't Speak Too Soon, For the Wheel's Still in Spin**

One of the wonderful things about Toby Young was that he rarely ever got angry. At Castanet High, where explosions of teenaged rage were as routine as the bell schedule (this week's hot news: Julius accosting Candace in the middle of the quad and asking her very loudly to go to prom with him. There were flowers and a boombox involved. The whole thing ended in uproar when Candace turned bright red and fled for the library without replying, nearly in tears from embarrassment, and Luna kicked Julius in the crotch for upsetting her sister), Toby was something of a anomaly. The best word to describe him was simply _chill_. While other people ranted and raged about their own lives, Toby would sit and listen, offering the voice of quiet reason. It was nearly impossible to be angry around Toby – he was simply too calm.

Which made it all the more hilarious in those moments when he _did_ freak out.

"I'm going to kill Luke Kimura," was the first thing he said when he sat down to lunch. Renee and Beth exchanged amused glances.

"How was crit today?" Renee asked, her tone deliberately bland. Toby scowled and stabbed at his tuna roll with uncharacteristic force, spearing it upon his chopstick.

"Awful." He shoved the roll into his mouth, chewed angrily, and swallowed before bursting out, "I couldn't get a word in edgewise! Does he _ever_ stop talking?"

Beth glanced at a spot two tables away, where Luke was entertaining his friends with a story, gesticulating wildly and talking despite his large and very visible mouthful of pizza. She winced. "Not even when he's eating."

"Exactly." Toby groaned and slumped over the table. "This semester of art class is going to be _awful_."

Renee patted her boyfriend's arm sympathetically, lips twitching as she tried desperately not to burst into laughter. "Well…were the portraits alright, at least?"

"Oh, yeah, they were fine," Toby said, voice slightly muffled. "Which made it even _worse_. I couldn't find too much bad to say about his, but he kept going on and on about how my portrait didn't seem quite 'dynamic' or 'colorful' enough." He made a strangled noise. "It was a pencil sketch! It's not _supposed_ to be colorful!"

"There, there," Renee said, her voice suspiciously strained from holding in her giggles. "It can only get better, right?"

"No! The worst thing was that Ms. Saunders _agreed_ with him! She said it was a good first effort, but for my next portrait I should try to capture Luke's vitality and not dull down his aura so much." Toby raised his head and looked around, wild-eyed. "His _aura_," he repeated, with the same disgust one would use when saying "his oozing pus-filled sores." "The only way I could capture _that_ aura is if I filled every painting with bright obnoxious orange!"

"Luke's aura is orange?" Beth asked.

"Or some other eyesore of a color, I don't know! And that still wouldn't convey how incredibly loud he is all the time! He's even loud when he's drawing – I never knew anyone who _drew_ loudly! I didn't know it was possible!"

Renee had to excuse herself to the bathroom – she ran, shaking with laughter, out of the cafeteria, as Beth tried to placate Toby.

"It'll be okay," she said soothingly. "Just…sing a song to yourself inside your head when he's talking."

"It doesn't work," Toby groaned. "He sings too. And it's _always_ 'Kung-Fu Fighting.'"

Beth sighed. "Well…I'm sorry, Toby. Hopefully Luke'll calm down as the project goes on?"

"He won't." Toby sighed, then seemed to remember something. His expression brightened marginally. "It wasn't quite as bad as it _could_ have been, though. You should have heard Chase and Gill's critique."

Beth looked sharply at him. "What?"

Toby's lips twitched. "I might be exaggerating a little bit. It's actually funny, now that I think about it."

"What happened?"

"Well…we weren't allowed to see each other's sketches before the critique, so none of us had any idea what to expect. So the entire class was caught completely off-guard when they saw Chase and Gill's sketches." He chuckled at the memory, and Beth pressed her lips together.

"And?"

"The…the expressions that they drew." Toby grinned. "Gill drew Chase looking _incredibly_ angry, and Chase drew Gill looking super snotty and stuck up. Then they both tried to justify it by saying 'that's just how he looked while we were sketching.' Ms. Saunders wasn't happy. She tried to get them to reenact their first conversation, but there wasn't anything too out of the ordinary." He gave Beth a questioning look. "Does Chase really not like Gill, or something?"

"Um…" Beth sighed. "He doesn't, but I'm not completely sure why. I mean, they barely know each other." She frowned. "But if I know Chase, then he probably _was_ making that face at Gill."

"His expression had a little bit of a 'get off my turf' to it," Toby mused. "Gill is a really good artist," he explained, when Beth raised her eyebrows. "Ms. Saunders went on this ramble about how alpha dogs size each other up before they decide whether or not to fight over territory – yeah, I know, it didn't make much sense to me either."

"What about alpha dogs?" This came from Renee, who had returned from the bathroom looking much calmer. She sat next to Toby and he wound an arm around her shoulders.

"It's the way Ms. Saunders described Chase's expression in Gill's portrait."

To everyone's surprise, Renee nodded as if this made perfect sense. "Yeah. I've seen that face before."

"You _have_?" Beth and Toby said at the same time. Renee looked from one shocked face to another, and grinned at their clueless expressions.

"You guys are so hilarious. Haven't you ever seen Chase jealous?"

"_Jealous_?" Beth's jaw dropped. "What for?"

"Oh, Beth. That boy has been so possessive of you since elementary school – he absolutely _hates_ it when you make friends with anyone else. He practically bit my head off when we became friends in fifth grade," Renee said, very matter-of-factly. "Honestly, I think he need to expand his friend group a bit more; might make his outlook a little healthier."

"Chase is…" Beth wanted to contradict Renee's words, but the retort stuck in her throat. That certainly would explain a lot of Chase's recent comments about Gill. She frowned. "That's not fair. I shouldn't have to clear it with him before I make friends."

"I never said it was reasonable. But it does explain a lot." Renee looked sidelong at Beth. "Isn't that going to make this weekend sort of awkward?"

"Yeah…" Beth sighed. "I still haven't asked Gill yet. Do you guys think it would be a bad idea?"

Renee shrugged. "Well, Chase is going to have to get used to Gill eventually. Maybe this'll help him get over his friendship insecurities. Don't tell him I said that, by the way – it might damage his ego."

"And we wouldn't want that."

"Nope." Renee nudged Toby, who had lapsed into his characteristic thoughtful silence. "What do you think?"

"Well…the more the merrier, I guess. Just – I don't want to sit next to them in the movie theater, okay?"

Beth sighed.

* * *

_A memory._

Chase remembered fifth grade very clearly as The Year When He Nearly Lost Beth.

It wasn't through any fault of his own – he loved his best friend unconditionally, even if he didn't know how to show it, and he had latched onto her so completely ever since kindergarten that he couldn't imagine life without her. Despite the teasing that went with having a girl for a best friend ("You're gonna catch _cooties_…"), Chase never abandoned Beth. He followed her everywhere like her skinny, pale shadow, sat next to her during lunch, and worked with her on every class project.

No, the problem wasn't him. It was Beth. Or, more accurately, the way Beth was. Is. Whatever.

Beth didn't love Chase the way he loved her. That certainly didn't mean that she didn't care about him – oh, no. Beth loved him wholeheartedly, the way she loved everyone else. And _that_ was the problem. Whereas Chase could only focus his affection on one person at a time, Beth seemed capable of loving the entire world. With every new friend that Beth made, Chase could practically see the love that she had for him breaking into smaller and smaller pieces as she shared it with the other people in her life.

He didn't _want_ her to keep sharing her love with other people. It meant that there would be less and less for him, until one day he might wake up and discover that she no longer cared about him.

In fifth grade, two students from Flute Fields Primary School transferred to Harmonica Elementary. Beth saw them as potential new friends, and wanted to get to know them. Chase, however, saw the new students as threats to his and Beth's friendship, and sought to keep them away.

Their names were Renee Hasselbach and Toby Young.

Beth took to Renee almost immediately. They were both free-spirited and cheerful, and they had the same taste in literature, which Beth's book (no pun intended) immediately put Renee several points ahead of everyone else in the class. They even _looked_ alike; when they stood side by side, people could have mistaken them for sisters.

Moreover, Renee was a _girl_, and that was something that Chase could never hope to compete with. Beth loved her best friend, but there were some things that a girl can only talk to another girl about. Chase would often go looking for Beth at recess, only to find her sitting on the grass with Renee, giggling about _something_ or another. And when he asked what was so funny, Beth would only smile and say, "Oh, nothing."

Chase could feel his friend slowly slipping away from him, toward this…this _intruder_. He cornered Renee in the library one day. "Stay away from Beth," he said, trying to be as threatening as an underweight ten-year-old can be.

Renee didn't look scared of him. "Why?"

He was shocked that she even needed to ask. "_Because_," he seethed, through gritted teeth, "she's _my_ friend."

"She's my friend too."

"She was my friend first!"

Renee rolled her eyes. "We can _both_ be her friends," she said, calmly and reasonably. "Didn't you ever learn to share?"

He had. It was one of those life lessons that everyone, even the most selfish of toddlers, had to learn at some point. But sharing crayons and basketballs and Goldfish crackers was very, very different from sharing a friend.

Renee must have sensed his consternation. "Beth still likes you," she told him matter-of-factly. "Just because she's my friend doesn't mean she won't be yours. _I_ could be your friend too, if you weren't so mean all the time."

And with that, she sidestepped him and went to go check out her armful of library books. Chase stood between the shelves for a long moment afterwards, scowling at the rows of books without really seeing them. He only snapped out of it when Beth came looking for him.

"Chase?" she said, large eyes questioning. "Why are you here? I thought we were going to eat lunch together."

He looked at her. "Do you like Renee more?"

She tilted her head questioningly. "More than what?"

"…More than me."

Her brow furrowed. "No." Spotting Chase's deepening frown, she elaborated. "I like you both _equally_," she said, "even though you're different. Renee's my best girl friend, but you're my best _boy_ friend." She smiled and grabbed his hand. "Come on, let's go eat lunch."

He learned to be okay with Renee. She was Beth's best girl friend and he was Beth's best boy friend, so she could no more usurp his position than he could hers. Maybe Renee was the one who could braid Beth's hair and talk to her about boys, but Chase was the one who didn't care if her hair was a mess and the one who would laugh if she told him a gross joke. They would always be on equal footing, hold equal portions of her love. Eventually, Chase stopped worrying about Renee taking Beth away from him.

Toby Young, however, was a different story.

Chase didn't think much of the other boy at first. He was sort of a goofy-looking kid, with ears that stuck out and eyes that were always squinted like he was smiling. He also never seemed to wear sneakers, even on P.E. days, and had this weird obsession with fishing that Chase, who had never been fishing in his life, couldn't even begin to fathom. Most of the time he tended to ignore Toby, which was easy – Toby mostly stuck by Renee anyway, since they had both come from the same school.

He only started to take notice of Toby when Beth began acting weird around him. Whenever Toby was around, Beth would turn red and her usual flow of constant chatter would cease. She'd half-hide behind Chase and smile and giggle a lot.

Chase had no idea what to make of it.

"Why do you act stupid around Toby?" he asked Beth one day as they sat in the shade, sharing their lunches. Beth's eyes went wide and she colored.

"I – I don't – "

Chase squinted at her. Beth was squirming with embarrassment, but a wide smile was spreading across her face as though she couldn't control it. "Um," she said, "promise you won't tell anyone?"

"Tell anyone what?"

"What I'm going to tell you. It's a _secret_."

"…Okay."

Beaming, Beth leaned and whispered in Chase's ear. "I like Toby."

She immediately scrambled back, cheeks flushed, while Chase stared. "_Like_ like?" he said, repeating the term that he'd heard thrown around the playground. Beth nodded and hid her face in her hands.

"Don't tell!" she squeaked.

He couldn't stop staring at her with shock and horror all through lunch.

What did people who _like_ liked each other do? Chase pondered this as he walked back to the orphanage that day, sneakers scuffing at the sidewalk. They kissed, he supposed, and then got married – the thought made him freeze in his tracks.

_Married_. What if Beth married Toby? She might go and live with him on that stupid boat Toby was always talking about, and spend her days fishing! He'd never see her again! Irrational panic seized him. _No, no, no._ This was…this was terrible.

"Can't you _like_ like someone else?" he asked Beth desperately the next day. She shushed him hurriedly.

"Shh, not so loud!" She glanced around, then said, "You can only _like_ like one person at a time, silly. You can't force yourself to like someone else just by thinking it."

"You can't like Toby!"

"Shh!" Beth looked about ready to strangle him. "Chase!"

"You can't like him, because…because…" He cast wildly about for an excuse. "Because Renee likes him!"

Beth looked at him with wide eyes. "She…she does?"

Sensing his advantage, Chase seized the lie and ran with it. "Yeah! She – she says that she's going to marry him someday! And then they're going to live on a boat and fish every single day!" Well, wasn't that what _any_ wife of Toby's would end up doing? "So – so you can't like him!"

Beth stared at him. "I…" She pressed her lips together and looked away, her eyes suspiciously wet.

It was very, very fortunate for Chase that his lie turned out to be true, because that could have been the end of all of his friendships in one fell swoop, if he'd been exposed. As it was, the little drama ended almost as soon as it had begun; Beth gave up on Toby for Renee, and the two really did begin dating in middle school. Chase, meanwhile, gave a sigh of relief. His relationship with Beth was safe, so long as she never _like_ liked anyone else. Ever.

He would make sure of it.

* * *

Beth looked a little bit shifty when Gill met her in the parking lot after school. "Hey," she said, and looked hard at his face. He blinked.

"Um…hi." He was tempted to ask why she was staring at him so intently, but these days that question seemed to be more trouble than it was worth, so he let it go. "How was your day?"

"It was fine." She was still peering at him. "I…hear you had an interesting critique session in art class today."

His eyebrows rose. "Who did you hear that from?"

"It wasn't from Chase, if that's what you think," she said quickly, as though reading his mind. "But – I want to apologize."

Gill wondered if he looked as bewildered as he felt. "Why?"

"Well, Chase is my friend, and I feel kind of responsible when he does stupid stuff like this."

"But you weren't involved."

Beth looked away. "Um…no," she said evasively. "But…" She shuffled awkwardly. "Er…"

He waited patiently for her to stop fidgeting and stammering. Her face flushing slightly, Beth muttered in a quick rush, "IdunthinkChasewantsustbefrie nds."

"…Sorry, what?"

She took a breath. "I don't think Chase wants us to be friends."

Part of Gill wasn't surprised at all. "Is it his business?"

"It isn't!" Beth looked annoyed. "Look, I'll talk to him – I don't know why he's acting so stupid. I mean, even if he doesn't li – er, doesn't get along with you, that doesn't mean that _I_ don't…um…"

"Get along with me?" Gill finished her sentence, slightly amused. Beth threw her hands in the air, looking exasperated and embarrassed.

"God, why is this so awkward?"

"Because you really don't need to apologize," he said. "Any conflict between me and Chase, we can work out on our own time."

Beth muttered something under her breath that sounded like "fat chance." Gill pretended not to hear her.

"We're just partners on an art project," he went on. "It's fine if he doesn't like me."

The girl sighed and tugged on a stray lock of hair. "I want us to all be friends. It makes life kind of awkward if I'm friends with two guys who don't get along – especially since I was planning on inviting you both to the movies this Saturday."

There was a full five seconds of silence as Gill looked at Beth, and Beth stared deliberately at Ms. Saunders pedaling off on her bike at the other side of the parking lot.

"…Oh."

"There'll be other people there too," Beth said, eyes still following Ms. Saunders as she wobbled along. "Probably some Student Council people. I really hope you can come."

"Are you sure?"

"Chase said he'd be civil," she muttered. She looked at Gill just as Ms. Saunders ran into the curb and flew off her bike, landing in a heap and swearing loudly. "Come on. Don't you want to be a degenerate teenage rebel?"

"I hardly think going to the movies counts as being a rebel."

"It does if you sneak your own food in."

"Beth O'Keefe, Snack Smuggler," Gill deadpanned, and Beth giggled, the sound light and lilting against the backdrop of Ms. Saunders' cussing.

"It has a nice ring to it." She looked at him, still smiling. "So you'll come?"

"I'll think about it."

* * *

_I'm hoping this is moving at a proper pace! I wanted to delve a little bit into why Chase is getting mad about Gill. Meanwhile Gill is just sort of going along at his own pace, drawing what he sees. Oh, Chase. Jealousy is not attractive in a man._

_Two chapters in two days. Don't expect this to become a regular thing, people – but enjoy it while you can._

_Chapter title is from "The Times They Are A-Changin'" by Bob Dylan. And for Chase, they certainly are._


	12. Teach Me a Lesson Maybe I Deserve

**Triple Threat  
****11. Teach Me a Lesson Maybe I Deserve to Know**

"Does this meet with your expectations?"

Beth ignored the sarcastic tone in Selena's voice and smiled blithely. "Oh, yeah, it was _great_. Everyone's going to love it."

Selena gave a delicate snort and tossed her long, braided hair over one shoulder. "I'll have you know that you're curbing my artistic talent," she said. Her large, heavy-lidded eyes regarded Beth with wounded dignity that the other girl took in stride.

"I know, I know," she said soothingly, "and if it were up to me, _I'd_ want you to express yourself however you want! But last time you guys did your routine, parents got angry and the principal made threats about shutting you guys down, remember? And nobody wants that. After all…" She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "If you guys were gone, the cheerleaders would have to take over dancing, and nobody wants that."

Selena shuddered gracefully. "Those blonde acrobats better stay off my dance floor," she said snippily. "Fine. We'll keep it…_PG_ for the unartistic prigs in management."

"Glad to hear it. Everything looks wonderful!"

"Of course it does," Selena said, shrugging as though this were a given.

As Beth walked away from the dance team, a tall figure rose from his place on the bleachers and clambered down to meet her. "Hi," Chase said. The smile on Beth's face took on a slightly fixed quality.

"Hi," she replied, bending down to scoop up her bag. Her eyes didn't meet his. "What's up?"

Looking awkward, Chase shoved his hands into his pockets and fidgeted slightly. "You're mad at me, aren't you?"

"I'm not mad at you."

"Maybe it's just my imagination, but the fact that you've been giving me the silent treatment since Tuesday makes me think that you _are_." He reached out and grabbed her arm as she turned to leave. "Hey. Can't you at least tell me what I did wrong?"

Beth groaned. "Chase, I'm not mad at you."

"Yes, you are."

"Okay, fine, I'm…a little irritated, okay?"

"_Why_?"

"Because of the way you treat my other friends," Beth said flatly. When she looked at Chase's face, his features were a study in bewilderment.

"What?"

"I mean the way you treated Renee – and the way you treat Gill. You act like _you're_ the only one that's allowed to be friends with me."

Chase blinked. "I didn't do anything to Gill."

"I think his sketch would beg to differ."

"He's a liar. My face looks nothing like that. What, is the guy getting all bent out of shape because I looked at him funny? Did _he_ put you up to this? God, what a – "

"He didn't say _anything_ to me, Chase. Gill has been really nice about this whole situation and I wish you'd do the same. You _said_ you'd be civil."

"I said I'd pretend to be civil."

"Well, right now you're doing kind of a crap job," Beth snapped. In response to her tone, Chase's anger flared.

"I don't want to be friends with him!"

"I never said that you had to!"

"Then stop trying to shove us together! Who are you – my friend, or my freaking _matchmaker_?"

"All I wanted was for you two to be on polite terms! Do you know what kind of situation it puts me in when my best friend hates everyone I try to hang out with?"

"He – he's an elitist _snob_. Why would you want to hang out with someone like that?"

"Gill's not a snob!" Beth's face was flushed with anger. "He's just _quiet_, which you'd know if you looked past your stupid prejudices for _ten seconds_ and actually tried to get along with him!"

"I don't _want_ to – " Chase began hotly, but Beth simply spoke over him.

"And if I recall correctly, _you_ were the same way when we first met!"

And with that, she stomped out through the gym doors. Chase stared hard after her, then turned around to see the entire dance team watching him.

"What are _you_ staring at?" he barked, and they scurried away, whispering to one another. Only Selena lingered for a moment to give him a thoughtful, appraising glance that made Chase feel slightly nervous.

"_What_?"

"...Nothing," Selena said. "It was just kind of funny to watch you shoot yourself in the foot like that."

And she glided off before Chase could even begin to formulate a retort.

* * *

It was Saturday afternoon, and Beth and Chase still weren't speaking.

Of course, Beth and Chase had had their little fights in the past, but they had always managed to reconcile within a day or two. But this time was different. What had started out as a simple disagreement had been blown way out of proportion, and neither party was willing to be the first to step forward and apologize. Beth, who was usually capable of great forgiveness in situations like these, maintained her stony silence on the grounds that she _knew_ she was right; Chase, who knew deep in his heart that he was in the wrong, stubbornly refused to admit so.

So the stalemate continued, making everyone around them feel very uncomfortable.

"Is…is he still coming to the movies?" Renee had asked timidly, somewhat daunted by the expression on Beth's face.

"Who?" Beth had said coolly, and that was the end of that.

Now she sat in her room in front of her vanity, gazing vacantly at her reflection. Her reflection stared glumly back at her. Beth ran a hand through her hair and sighed.

She _hated_ fighting with Chase. Granted, she disliked conflict of any kind, but Chase was her best friend. Their disagreements always made her feel off-balance and cross, emotions that manifested themselves very clearly on her face. There were dark shadows under her wide brown eyes, and her mouth looked pinched and dissatisfied.

With an effort, Beth stretched her mouth in a wide grin. It only served to make her look deranged. It was at that moment that her mother decided to walk through the door.

"Beth – oh, dear."

Beth dropped the grin and turned to face her mother. "Hi, Mom. What's up?"

Mrs. O'Keefe handed her the phone. "It's Toby," she said, still surveying Beth's face with some concern.

"Toby?" Beth repeated the name with some puzzlement, and accepted the phone. "Hello?"

"_Hi, Beth, it's Toby._"

"Yeah, I know." There was a soft click as Mrs. O'Keefe left the room, shutting the door behind her. "What's up?"

"_Nothing much. Listen – about the movies later today…Renee and I are going to have to bail._"

Beth bit her lip. "Is everything alright?"

"_Yeah, everything's okay – Renee's just…uh, not feeling too well. She says it's…um…she says it's period…stuff._"

Beth raised her eyebrows. "Period stuff? What kind of period stuff?"

"_Uh._" Toby sounded nervous. "_I – I dunno. Cramps? Um – _" There was some frantic whispering that Beth couldn't make out. "_Yeah. Yeah. Cramps._"

She sighed. "Toby, put Renee on the line."

"_What? Oh, okay._" Toby didn't sound disappointed at all – in fact, he seemed positively relieved not to have to continue fibbing about periods. The next second, Renee's voice came through the line, strained with a convincing imitation of pain.

"_Hello_?"

"Stop faking, Renee."

"_I'm sorry, Beth. I'd really like to go to the movies with you…but you really haven't been yourself since you've been fighting with Chase. I think you should maybe cancel with everyone else and just take the day off._"

"I can't do that. The others already said that they're coming – I can't just bail on them."

"_Say you're sick. Hey, you could even use my period excuse!_"

"Renee…"

"_Okay, fine, fine._" There was a rush of static as Renee sighed. "_Look, we're all really worried about you, okay? This is the longest fight that you and Chase have ever had, and it's depressing everyone, watching you guys stump around looking like the world's going to end. Can't you guys – I dunno, talk, or something?_"

"I wish we could, but he won't admit that he's wrong. And I can't just buckle this time."

"_I think you're both being a little silly. So what if he doesn't like Gill? He's still your best friend, and you barely know Gill at all._"

"Well, maybe I want to get to know him better. And even if I don't – if I buckle to Chase this time, what's going to happen the next time I try to make a friend?"

"_I suppose you have a point._"

Beth pressed a hand across her eyes. "Look, I know that this fight is pretty stupid. But I need to make sure that Chase knows where I stand. And I just want to go to the movies and forget about it, okay?"

"_Okay, okay_."

"You and Toby don't have to come if you don't want to."

Before Renee could reply, a soft beeping came from the phone. Beth pulled it away from her ear to see "INCOMING CALL" flashing at her.

"Hold on a second, okay? I have another call."

She switched lines. "Hello?"

"_H-Hi…Beth? This is Candace._"

"Hi, Candace! What's up?"

"_U-Um…I'm r-really sorry, but Luna and I aren't going to be able to come t-to the movies today._" Candace's voice, already soft and shaky, was positively breathy now. Every word sounded like it was causing her great pain to say. "_We both g-got food poisoning last night_."

"Oh, no! Are you alright?"

"_Yes…w-we're in the hospital now, just r-resting, but I-I don't think we're going to be able to m-make it…_"

"Oh, don't worry about it! You guys just focus on getting better, okay?"

"_Y-Yes, we will, thanks…_"

"Feel better!" With a sigh, Beth switched back to Renee's line. "Renee? Are you still there?"

"_Yeah. What's up?_"

"That was Candace on the other line. She and Luna can't come to the movies – they've both got food poisoning."

"_Oh, God, that sounds awful. But…are you sure she wasn't faking?_"

"She sounded pretty serious. And it's _Candace_, Renee. She couldn't lie to save her life." Beth looked moodily out her window at the setting sun. "I guess there's no point in going now."

"_Are you sure? Toby and I can still go if you really want us to._"

"No, it's okay. I don't want to force you guys to go."

"_Really. Well…do you want me to come over or something? We could have a girls' night. Watch some cheesy movies, eat a ton of ice cream, even talk trash about Chase if that'll make you feel better._"

In the background, Beth distinctly heard Toby protest, "_But I thought _we_ were going to do that tonight!_" It made her smile.

"Thanks for offering, but I think I'll just have a quiet night. You can tell Toby that his big date night is still on."

"_Ha, ha_," Renee said drily, but she sounded marginally less concerned than before. "_Well, feel better, okay?_"

After Renee had hung up, Beth put the phone down and stared at it. She wondered, half-heartedly, if it would be willing to call the orphanage and ask for Chase. It would be so easy, just to swallow her pride – a little white lie, and they would be friends again, making fun of whatever stupid teen flick had just come out.

_No._ Beth clenched her teeth and shook her head. She had to stick by what she had said to Renee before. Chase had to understand where she stood. No matter how much it hurt her.

Suddenly defiant, she picked up the phone and, after a moment's hesitation, dialed.

He picked up after three rings. "_Hello?_"

"Hi, Gill, it's Beth. Are you doing anything tonight?"

* * *

_CLIFFHANGER._

_Yeah, I know, this chapter is a little short compared to the others. But I figured I'd keep you guys in suspense for a little while longer._

_I can't believe how fast I'm updating this right now, but I just keep getting flashes of inspiration. Also I'm procrastinating horribly on my work. That might have something to do with it._

_Just to clarify: the reason Gill wasn't going on the group movie thing was because he never gave Beth a definite answer. More detailed reasons will be in the next chapter._

_Man, that sure escalated quickly, didn't it? I know it seems like everything happened fast, but Chase's anger tends to make everything move faster. Plus, it's high school – everyone gets into dumb fights. But what comes out of them is always much more serious._

_Thank you to the people who reviewed! If you want to see more, please leave comments!_

_Title is from "Words" by Darren Hayes. Man, that song just seems to fit the Chase/Beth relationship perfectly from both ends._

_Stay tuned for the next chapter!_


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